Church of the Churchless

If you've been looking for God's Chosen One, his name is Donald

I'm aware that many people who visit this blog, notwithstanding its churchless nature, are either believers in God or are searching for a sign of God's presence in the world.

Well, I've got some good news for you. There's no need to journey to India, no need to pray deeply, no need to meditate assiduously. For I learned today that God's Chosen One isn't hiding from view but is readily apparent.

Way too readily apparent for my liking. But I'm biased, since I neither believe in God nor in God's Chosen One. So I'm pleased to share the name of the Chosen One for those who have a stronger belief muscle than I do.

Donald. As in Donald Trump. 

This may be difficult for some to accept. However, my source is reputable: a Politico story, "Does Trump actually think he's God?" Short answer is probably not, but Trump does believe he has been chosen by God to do great things. 

For those skeptics who doubt his Trumpian divinity, which definitely includes me, the number of links in the opening paragraph of the Poltico story is indeed impressive. After all, how many links are in the New Testament? Zero, yet hundreds of millions of people accept the divinity of Jesus.

“I’m supposed to be dead,” Donald Trump said, the day after he got shot at his rally last summer in Butler, Pennsylvania. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he said four days after that. “But something very special happened. Let’s face it. Something happened,” he said two days after that. “It’s … an act of God,” he said the month after that. “God spared my life for a reason,” he said in his victory speech at Mar-a-Lago in November. “I was saved by God to make America great again,” he said in his inaugural address at the Capitol in January. “It changed something in me,” he said in his speech at the National Prayer Breakfast at the Washington Hilton in February. “I feel even stronger.”

...“I think he does believe he was saved to do great things as president,” Stephen Mansfield, the author of the 2018 book Choosing Donald Trump: God, Anger, Hope, and Why Christian Conservatives Supported Him, told me. “I think he does believe that he is a tool of God.”

I found interesting the mentions of how Trump went from being a strict determinist, which seems to me to be an entirely defensible philosophical position, to being a believer in God choosing certain people, namely himself, to carry out the divine will.

Some say Trump believes nothing. That’s not true. He believes, for instance, in tariffs, and always has. He believes in the importance of genes and always has. He believes in the power of positive thinking, and he believes in the power of negative publicity. And Trump, at best an intermittently observant Christian who reportedly has mocked those more devout, nonetheless believes, and has for a long, long time, in … something like predestination.

“I’m a great fatalist,” he told a reporter from New York’s Newsday in 1991.

“What scares you the most?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Whatever happens, happens — and you just have to go along with it.”

But that was the old Trump. The new Trump embraces his godly chosenness. 

“I think,” Robert Jeffress, the Trump-supporting pastor from Dallas, said last month, “he came to the conclusion — the right conclusion — that God has a purpose for him.”

Christian believers believe, of course, that God has a purpose for them, and for all of them — that they’re all potential tools of his will, and beneficiaries of his grace. Most of them don’t, though, think of themselves as the literal second coming of Christ. And the extent to which Trump might think that of himself, and that his supporters might agree, speaks to the unprecedented expansion of power he has asserted and that many in the country seem content to grant.

“No previous president in American history has claimed that he was saved by God to enact his political agenda,” Mercieca, the rhetoric expert, recently wrote. Asking God to watch over the nation? Yes. Claiming to have been saved specifically by God to enable the enactment of political priorities? No. “Invoking the power of the unified people and God gives Trump an awesome and unquestionable power — whoever defies Trump is at risk of defying the people and God. It’s impossible to argue against Trump when he claims the power of God …”

Not really true. It is indeed possible to argue against Trump claiming the power of God.

Other scholars and observers say he’s an opportunist who also is a narcissist who also recognizes considerable political utility in wrapping himself in such a divine mantle.

“The authoritarian leader presents himself as a divine or messianic figure who is uniquely able to vanquish the forces of evil and make the world safe for the faithful. As God incarnate, the leader is by definition omnipotent, omniscient and omnibenevolent,” David Livingstone Smith, a professor of philosophy at the University of New England, wrote before Trump won for the second time. “Sacred leaders are messianic figures, who promise salvation for true believers. When a movement is headed by a sacred leader, it resembles a religion,” he wrote after. “Trump is a sacred leader. His evangelical followers often refer to him as a ‘savior’ or ‘anointed one’ chosen by God …”

“Trump was not, personally, a paragon of conventional religious devotion. Yet his political career depended on a hunger among his most dedicated supporters that can only be called spiritual,” Molly Worthen, a history professor at the University of North Carolina and an expert on the intersection of religion, culture and politics, wrote in her book Spellboundthat came out just this week. “He’s a nihilist for whom the only source of meaning is the amassing of personal power, turning his will into personal, political, financial and territorial domination, and that’s totally compatible with a messiah complex,” Worthen told me. “I don’t see the recent turn in his language as a deviation from past patterns, but the fuller realization of those patterns.”

"Original Sin" book about Biden's decline also has lessons about religious zealotry

When I first heard about the book by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson, Original Sin: President Biden's Decline, Its Cover-Up, and His Disastrous Choice to Run Again, I wondered why that title was selected. Not the subtitle, the main title, Original Sin.

I bought the book recently and have read a bit less than a quarter of it. That's enough to tell me why it's called Original Sin. Since the title has religious implications, I figured sharing some excerpts from the first seven chapters would be an interesting exercise in how politics and religion often have quite a bit in common.

After all, I frequently refer to the Cult of Trump in blog posts. 

Stock market drop shows peril of following a cult leader, Trump
Insurrection at Capitol today caused by the Cult of Trump
Inside the cult of Trump, his rallies are church and he is the Gospel
Cult of Trump shows how delusion is linked to blind devotion 
Trump acts like a cult leader in his coronavirus briefings
Cult of Trump shows danger of blind faith

So as you can read below, while Tapper and Thompson view Biden's inner circle as being akin to uncritical followers of the Church of Biden, the same can be said of Trump's acolytes -- if not more so.

An Author's Note at the beginning of the book has a message that applies both in politics and religion.

The lessons from this book go beyond one man and one political party. They speak to more universal questions about cognitive dissonance, groupthink, courage, cowardice, and patriotism. 

George Orwell once wrote that "we are all capable of believing things which we know to be untrue, and then, when we are finally proved wrong, impudently twisting the facts so as to show that we were right. Intellectually, it is possible to carry on this process for an indefinite time: the only check on it is that sooner or later a false belief bumps up against solid reality, usually on a battlefield."

He was writing about World War II, but he could have been writing about any time, any era. "The Germans and the Japanese lost the war quite largely because their rulers were unable to see facts which were plain to any dispassionate eye," Orwell went on. "To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle."

Here is what was in front of our noses.

These passages relate more directly to Biden.

The original sin of Election 2024 was Biden's decision to run for reelection -- followed by aggressive efforts to hide his cognitive diminishment.

...To grasp how Joe Biden could have decided to run for reelection at his historically advanced age, one must understand Biden's own mythology. Even before one gets to his belief that he, and only he, was capable of defeating Donald Trump, consider the legend of Joe Biden and its grounding in exceeding expectations, defying odds, and surviving.

"Get up!" he wrote in his first memoir, Promises to Keep. "To me this is the first principle of life, the foundational principle, and a lesson you can't learn at the feet of any wise man. Get up! The art of living is simply getting up after you've been knocked down."

...So to think that aging or ailment would make Biden reconsider his run is to not understand Joe Biden and the true believers with whom he surrounded himself. Fate had spent the better part of the last half century throwing everything it could at him, the worst tragedies imaginable. 

And every goddamn time, he got up. Every. Goddamn. Time.

To family and close aides, the mythology became almost a theology, a near-religious faith in Biden's ability to rise again. And as with any theology, skepticism was forbidden.

...The president was fond of using the formal family motto, of giving "my word as a Biden," but they had another, more private saying: "Never call a fat person fat." It wasn't just about politesse; it was about ignoring ugly facts.

"Don't say mean truths" is how someone close to the family put it.

"The Bidens' greatest strength is living in their own reality," this person told us. "And Biden himself is gifted at creating it: Beau isn't going to die. Hunter's sobriety is stable. Joe always tells the truth. Joe cares more about his family than his own ambition. They stick to the narrative and repeat it."

From 2020 until 2024, all of this resulted in an almost spiritual refusal to admit that Biden was declining.

There were some aides who appreciated the president but did not share their colleague's religious zeal. The Bidens' closest aides, they told us, essentially hid his deterioration from the public and from others in the administration.

...The significance of Bernal and Tomasini is the degree to which their rise in the Biden White House signaled the success of people whose allegiance was to the Biden family -- not to the presidency, not to the American people, not to the country, but to the Biden theology. They were the Bidens' eyes and ears, the keepers of the flame, the protectors of the myth. That included casting out potential heretics. Bernal, in particular, took on this role.

...During one of the low points of Biden's campaign, Axelrod attended a New Hampshire town hall. Biden's remarks were not particularly stirring, but a line of voters formed afterward. Each one wanted to talk to him, most with sad stories, seeking a kind ear. And Biden stood and greeted every single one of them

Like the pilgrimages to Lourdes, Axelrod later said.

...Other Democrats knew that the White House watched closely for any signs of dissent. They kept quiet and went along. 

We humans are good at making illusory magic

Almost everybody enjoys a good magic show. I sure do. But hardly anyone actually believes in magic. We understand that when a magician does something that appears to violate everyday laws of nature, that trick is based on illusory magic, not genuine magic.

An article in the April 12, 2025 issue of New Scientist, "Magicology," talks about how psychologists are looking to magic tricks to better understand how our brains make sense of the world around us. I found this example fascinating.

A classic deception known as the “vanishing ball illusion” – already well-known when Binet discussed it in 1894 – provides an ideal example. In this trick, a magician repeatedly tosses and catches a ball. At one point, they make the same movement, but, having concealed the ball in a pocket or with their hands, they don’t throw it. Quite remarkably, most spectators report seeing the ball fly up into the air before it vanishes into nothing.

The effect can be startling. “It produces a distinct feeling that’s more than just basic surprise,” says Geoff Cole, a psychology researcher at the University of Essex, UK. “It really does look like it’s disappeared.”

The illusion is thought to work because of “predictive processing”, a theory of consciousness that is gaining ground among cognitive neuroscientists, psychologists and others. This framework suggests that the brain is constantly making predictions about the world around us to inform complex simulations that help it make sense of the imperfect data gathered by our sensory organs. Our experience of reality is dictated by these mental models.

Most of the time, they match what is occurring in the real world – but they can sometimes make incorrect predictions, producing a sense of something that isn’t there. In this case, the expectation that the ball will rise out of the magician’s hand creates a split-second impression that it is rising in front of us. When the data from our eyes catches up with the brain’s simulations and corrects them, the perception of the ball vanishes while it is in mid-air.

“We don’t have a picture of the world as it is,” says Cyril Thomas, a cognitive psychologist at the Marie and Louis Pasteur University in Besançon, France. “We add a little bit of anticipation.”

Tricks like the vanishing ball illusion demonstrate just how easy it is to prime the brain’s simulations. Kuhn, for instance, found that around a third of people will experience the illusion with a single fake throw, for instance, without any of the usual ball-tossing beforehand.

This is an important point: "We don't have a picture of the world as it is." Sure, as the passage above says, usually our mental models make use of predictive processing in a fashion that gives us a mostly accurate view of the world.

But sometimes we are fooled. A good magician can do this so skillfully we're unaware of how we've been deceived. All we know is that something which ordinarily seems impossible appears as if it actually happened -- as when a ball thrown into the air suddenly disappears. 

A magic show advertises that unusual events will be observed by the audience. We pay the price of admission because we want to be fooled by the magician.

And often we do something similar with a religious, spiritual, or mystic leader. We willingly put ourselves under the spell of their "magic" because we long to have a miraculous experience that seems to violate the ordinary laws of nature.

When I spent two weeks in India back in 1977, I wanted to do this because I'd never seen in person the Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB) guru who initiated me in 1971. So I traveled to the RSSB headquarters in the Punjab, the Dera, to get myself some up close and personal time with Charan Singh.

A short way I've used to describe those two weeks is It was magical. That was true for me when I was still an active member of RSSB and it's still true for me now that I've left the organization and become a proud atheist. 

My memory of that time at the Dera isn't affected by how I currently view Charan Singh -- not as God in Human Form, which is what I thought in 1977, but as a warm, gentle, kind person. I realize now that the magical feeling I experienced during my visit to India was produced by the expectations I brought with me, not by the guru or the surroundings of the Dera.

I expected to have a magical experience. I did have a magical experience. The expectation was the primary reason.

Just about every encounter I had at the Dera was suffused with a difficult-to-describe "specialness." Not because it was outwardly special, but because I'd looked forward to my India trip so intensely, I imbued the experiences I had there with an overlay of what can only be described as magic.

So what I did was similar to the people watching a magician toss a ball into the air that disappears in a magical fashion. There isn't any actual magic going on with that trick, just as there wasn't any actual magic in the words and actions of Charan Singh. 

But since my mind was expecting to have a magical experience in the guru's presence, I did have such an experience. And the good news is, since magic comes from within, not without, each of us is capable of fashioning our own unique personal individualized magical moments. Just expect magic to happen and, who knows, maybe it will.

No need for magic to be attached to special experiences. Ordinary experiences will do just fine. After all, Zen reminds us that all we need to do is chop wood and carry water, or otherwise engage in our everyday actions. Magic is in the ordinary just as much as in the extraordinary. 

My Oregon softball obsession shows the pluses and minuses of attachment

For 35 years I belonged to an Eastern religion, Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB), that was an offshoot of the broader Sant Mat movement. As I wrote about in 2013, RSSB had a decided renunciative focus, as contrasted with a life-affirming focus.

For about 35 years I was a member of an India-based organization headed up by a guru whose teachings were definitely in the renunciative camp.

The goal was to leave this physical world behind and find a better one in higher realms of reality. To do that, it was necessary to beware of the Five Deadly Foes, lust, anger, greed, attachment, egotism. So really serious stuff. Vows were taken of no sex outside of marriage, no use of alcohol or recreational drugs, no meat, fish, or eggs. 

Nothing wrong with all that if that's what you want in life. But I observed many instances of fellow initiates becoming rigid, moralistic, judgmental, holier-than-thou, and generally not pleasant to be around. Stifle normal urges and emotions and you've got a textbook renunciative theology.

Those Five Deadly Foes are basically the same as the six enemies of the mind in Hindu theology, which adds jealousy.

Moha, attachment, is described as want/desire, which definitely is my attitude when I watch the University of Oregon women's softball team compete in the current NCAA tournament that culminates in the Women's College World Series.

I wrote about the Oregon Ducks victory in the regional competition last weekend in "Oregon softball team was inspiring in winning regional over Stanford." (My granddaughter, who graduates from high school at the end of this month, will be attending the University of Oregon next fall, so this gives my Oregon sports obsession an extra burst.)

Now Oregon is hosting a super-regional. Their opponent is Liberty.

Yesterday Oregon beat Liberty in extra innings in an exciting fashion, the second game in a row that one of their players got a hit that earned them a "walkoff" win -- which means the team walked off the field with a victory after the hit because it led to their team leading and winning at the bottom of a final inning, either the 7th in a regular softball game or an extra inning if the game was tied after regulation.

I get really nervous when Oregon falls behind, especially when an error or bad play by the Ducks leads to runs being scored by the other team. I also get really happy when Oregon scores, and super happy when the team wins. Make that super duper happy if the win is dramatic, as it was last Sunday when Oregon trailed Stanford the entire game until a three-run walkoff home run gave them the victory.

I pump my fist in the air. I yell "Yes!" out loud if I'm by myself, silently inside my head if my wife is home (she's utterly uninterested in sports). For hours afterward, extending into the following day, I feel buoyant and optimistic. Everything may not be right with the world, but it definitely is in the little corner of the world that's my Oregon softball team obsession. 

Of course, the opposite is pretty much true if Oregon loses. A blowout doesn't disturb me as much as a narrow loss, because it is possible to think "If only..." with a one or two run victory by the other team. Thankfully, those losses don't bring me down emotionally to the same extent as the wins raise me up.

But there's no doubt that my attachment to having Oregon win affects my mood both positively and negatively. Which raises the question of whether I'd be better off not watching the Oregon softball team play at all. That way I'd avoid both the pleasure of victory and the agony of defeat. 

Well, my answer to that question is No way! I'd rather feel those ups and downs than not feel anything at all. And for me this is a general answer to the question of attachment. My attachment to my wife, better termed love, leads me to hurt when she hurts and to feel happy when she's happy. There's no way I'd prefer to be in some sort of permanent detached mental state where I didn't feel those emotions.

After starting to write this post earlier today, I just finished watching Oregon demolish Liberty 13-1 in the second game of the super regional. This wasn't a tense game for me, given the final score. Liberty did lead 1-0 after the first inning, but after that it was all Oregon. Watching the players celebrate made me feel happy also.

Without attachments and desire, life would barely be worth living. Sure, there are more important things than softball to be the object of desire, but I'll take my joys however they may appear. Now it's on to the Women's College World Series. I'll be glued to my television, feeling good when Oregon wins and bad when Oregon loses.

This might not be in accord with the teachings of RSSB and Hinduism. So what? Lust, anger, greed, attachment, egotism, and jealousy are natural aspects of being human. Godliness is an abstraction. I prefer concrete reality. 

Criticism of Israel, a nation, is not antisemitism since Judaism is a religion

Most people in the United States are Christian. This doesn't mean that anyone who criticizes the United States is anti-Christian. Likewise, most people in Israel are Jewish. This doesn't mean that anyone who criticizes Israel is anti-Jewish, or antisemitic (which means hatred of, or prejudice toward, Jews).

Of course, it is possible to be anti-Christianity, anti-Judaism, or anti-religion in general. Being an atheist, I lean decidedly in that direction. But I'm equal opportunity in this regard: I find all religions ridiculous in my current state of unbelieving, though I'm attracted to Buddhism in its non-supernatural form. 

Recently on my Salem Political Snark blog I wrote a post about this: "If criticizing Israel is antisemitic, then I'm an antisemite." Here's the post, aside from a concluding quotation about how Amnesty International views the war against Hamas.

Antisemitism used to mean what it actually is: hostility toward Jews, including hatred, discrimination, and prejudice. But lately in some circles the meaning of the word has expanded to something that it isn't: criticism of Israel.

This is completely wrong. It conflates two separate things, the Jewish religion and the nation of Israel. There are lots of people in Israel who strongly oppose policies of the current right-wing Israeli government, which is headed up by Prime Minister Netanyahu.

Many, if not most, of those people are observant Jews. So are they antisemitic, somehow being prejudiced against themselves? Of course not. They simply disagree with what their government is doing. This includes how Netanyahu and his cronies are conducting the war against Hamas.

Yet in this country Trump and his acolytes have been trying to equate anti-Israel and pro-Palestinian protests with antisemitism. That's ridiculous. There's good reason to believe that the Israeli government is committing war crimes against the two million or so people who live in Gaza.

Protesting this deserves praise, or at least a recognition that everyone in the United States, citizen and non-citizen alike, are entitled to express their views about the war freely. 

My own viewpoint is in line with how most Americans seem to see the Israeli-Hamas conflict. Hamas was wrong to start the war on October 7, 2023. Israel was justified in striking back against Hamas. However, the rules of war require that civilian casualties be minimized and that civilians not be forced to leave their homes or denied humanitarian aid such as food, water, and shelter.

Israel has failed to comply with both of those requirements. Gaza has been almost completely destroyed, with the population continually forced to move from one area to another by Israeli forces. An estimated 15,000 children have been killed in Gaza, with over 25,000 injured. That infuriates me.

I'm also deeply angered by Israel severely limiting humanitarian aid to the people of Gaza, most of whom have no connection with Hamas and the October 7 terror attacks. Amnesty International tells it like it is.

Yesterday a man fatally shot two staff members of the Israeli embassy outside of a Jewish museum in Washington, D.C. Reportedly he told police after his arrest, “I did it for Palestine, I did it for Gaza.” He also yelled "Free Palestine" as he was led away.

This is being called an act of antisemitism. It doesn't sound that way to me. Rather, it sounds like a despicable act of violence against two Israeli Jews who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's no evidence that Elias Rodriguez, the shooter, targeted the specific people who were killed. An AP story says:

The two victims, a man and a woman, were leaving an event at the Capital Jewish Museum around 9:15 p.m. Wednesday when the suspect approached a group of four people and opened fire, Metropolitan Police Chief Pamela Smith said at a news conference.

Yet a recently appointed U.S. attorney who used to be a Fox News personality and has no relevant experience with prosecutions of this sort, called the killings antisemitism. 

“Violence against anyone based on their religion is an act of cowardice. It is not an act of a hero,” said Jeanine Pirro, the interim U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia. “Antisemitism will not be tolerated, especially in the nation’s capital.”

Well, from what is known so far, it seems more likely that this was an act of violence motivated by the shooter's support for the people of Palestine and Gaza. What Rodriguez did was absolutely wrong. However, the cause he seemed to be espousing -- freedom for Palestinians from the oppression of Israel -- is totally fine. 

I support that cause, though naturally I detest the killing of innocent people caught up in the conflict between Israel and Palestinians, no matter their nationality. It just seems dangerous to call criticism of Israel, even violent criticism, antisemitism. Yet this is what the Trump administration seems determined to do.

Being prejudiced against people solely because of their religion isn't right. But it also isn't right to equate  criticism of a country mostly made up of people who belong to a certain religion with anti-religion prejudice.

Emotions aren't good or bad; they are just information

The title of this blog post is a quote from a book by psychologist Ethan Kross, Shift: Managing Your Emotions -- So They Don't Manage You, that I've just started reading after seeing a mention of it in a recent New Scientist article about emotions.

I'll have more to say about the book after I get further into it. So far, I'm enjoying some fresh insights about emotions, which obviously are key to how we experience the world.

Everything outwardly can be going fine with us, but if we feel sad, disappointed, listless, or are under the sway of some other negative emotion, life can seem miserable from the inside even as things are going great from the outside.

Here's some passages from the book that resonated with me. I've read several other books about emotions. Kross, the director of the Emotion & Self Control Laboratory at the University of Michigan, has his own appealing way of describing both what emotions are all about, and how we can manage them wisely.

Our emotions are our guides through life. They are the music and the magic, the indelible markers of our time on earth. The goal is not to run from negative emotions, or pursue only the feel-good ones, but to be able to shift: experience all of them, learn from all of them, and, when needed, move easily from one emotional state into another.

And that -- like any skill worth having -- is something that takes a bit of practice. I look at our emotional life as a priceless instrument, a work of art capable of manifesting the near divine. Something a lot like a Stradivarius violin.

We are all born with an emotional apparatus -- an instrument. But we've never been taught how to play it skillfully. How to position a bow, hold a long note, or recover when we flub a passage.

...When it comes to emotions, there are two common sources of confusion. First, despite the cultural trope depicting emotions as the antithesis of rational thought, cognition -- what we colloquially refer to as thinking -- is actually a key building block of emotion.

How we think about our circumstances shapes the emotions we experience; then those emotions reverberate to influence how we think.

For instance, if you walk into the SATs thinking you are bad at taking tests, your anxiety will be ramped up. Then you don't feel good about your performance on the test, and that becomes evidence for continuing to think that you're bad at test taking. 

In this way there's simply no pulling emotion and cognition apart. This bi-directionality of cognition and emotion allows us to modulate difficult emotions by changing the way we think. By thinking differently -- I get nervous sometimes, but I'm still a good test taker, or that jittery feeling is just excitement and anticipation, it means I'm ready -- you can work those pathways to your advantage.

A second source of confusion: the relationship between feelings and emotions. While thinking often gets pitted against emotions as if they were perpetually at war, feelings and emotions tend to be thought of as one and the same and used interchangeably. 

The truth is that feelings are simply the part of an emotional experience that we are aware of. And we are conscious of feelings in ways that we are not always conscious of in other aspects of our emotional experience (for example, an instinctive frown or shifting hormone levels). Feelings are like the "fever" of an emotional response, the conscious readout of what's going on behind the scenes.

Feelings are also a unique expression of our emotional experience, which is why no two people "feel" an emotion the same way.

...No matter how painful and overwhelming our emotions can sometimes be, it is essential to remember that we evolved our capacity to experience them for a reason: They help us navigate the world, which is why all emotions are functional, even the ones we don't like. 

...While most of us have no problem reveling in emotions such as joy or excitement, we'd generally do almost anything to avoid negative emotions such as fear or shame. From that vantage point, negative emotions are the bad guy, so it's easy to believe avoiding them altogether is the key to happiness and success. 

But the fact is that our emotions -- all of them -- are a central adaptive feature of our lives. Emotions aren't good or bad; they are just information. 

...Anxiety helps us marshal a helpful response to either approach or avoid the threat we're dealing with so we can handle it.

...Sadness slows us down physiologically in moments when we need to reflect, helping us take time to mourn a loss and shore up any remaining connections associated with that loss.

...Envy can motivate us to work harder to obtain what we want.

Regret helps us avoid making the same mistakes twice.

Guilt guides us to recognize harm we caused and prompts us to make amends.

Anger can help us respond to a threat and correct an injustice.

Fear is a response to a specific danger that sharpens our awareness and compels us to act.

And lust can -- well, let's not get into that, though it does help perpetuate the species.

Reaction to Biden's cancer diagnosis shows power of empathy and compassion

Today the news broke that Joe Biden, the former president of the United States, has a serious variety of prostate cancer. 

Former President Joe Biden has been diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer, with metastasis to the bone, according to a statement from his personal office Sunday.

Doctors diagnosed Biden last week with a prostate nodule after he experienced increasing urinary symptoms. By Friday, they diagnosed him with cancer.

Biden’s office said the cancer “appears to be hormone-sensitive which allows for effective management.”

A spokesperson said in a statement that the 82-year-old Biden and his family are reviewing treatment options with his physicians.

Biden’s news seemed to, for a short time at least, break through Washington’s current fierce divides. Among those quickly offering support was his immediate predecessor and successor in the White House.

“Melania and I are saddened to hear about Joe Biden’s recent medical diagnosis,” said President Donald Trump on Truth Social, his social media platform. “We extend our warmest and best wishes to Jill and the family, and we wish Joe a fast and successful recovery.”

I've been irritated at Biden for his refusal to drop out of the 2024 presidential race until his mental senility was too obvious to ignore following his disastrous debate with Donald Trump. 

But as soon as I turned on my car radio to CNN after having coffee with a friend this afternoon, and I heard about Biden's cancer diagnosis, all that went through my mind was I'm so sorry Joe; best wishes for a full recovery.

Even Trump had a similar reaction, and he isn't known for exhibiting a lot of sympathy to his political opponents. 

This shows how we humans are hard-wired, basically, to feel empathy and compassion toward other people who are suffering. Physical suffering seems to elicit the most empathy and compassion, perhaps because this is something that we all share: pain, disease, disability, and eventually, death.

Mental suffering is a bit harder to empathize with, since it is more personal and often difficult to understand if we've never experienced something like deep depression or psychosis -- whereas physical pain is easier for us to think, "I know what you're going through."

Still, we all know what it's like to suffer through hardship, bad news, serious disappointment. So I can picture what Biden and his family are going through as they wonder what the future will bring, for I've had loved ones deal with serious medical diagnoses, and I've experienced significant physical and mental suffering myself.

It's just unfortunate, though probably unavoidable, that we can dislike some people so strongly because they don't share our political, religious, or other sorts of views, then feel a sense of commonality with them if they suffer from a serious medical problem, accident, tragedy, or such.

There's a saying, "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy." That shows how many things divide us, but deep down almost everybody feels a sense of commonality with other people no matter our differences -- since we are all members of the same human family.

What we do isn't as important as how we do it...mindfully

Maybe it wasn't much, but I'll take it.

A few days ago I found that an insight which I've rationally known for a long time had partially passed through the dividing line between intellectual understanding and experiential understanding.

Meaning, the insight now wasn't so much something that I thought about, but something that had become more of my basic attitude to life.

Put into words, my aha! sounds rather trite. Yet it resonated with me.

I realized that I'll always be disappointed if my goal is to resolve the problems in my life. For as soon as I deal with one problem, another pops up. That's simply the nature of life. So I stand a better chance of success if my goal is to remain as calm, cool, and collected as possible no matter what happens. 

This is how Google AI sums up that adage.

"Cool, calm, and collected" is an idiom that describes someone who is not upset or bothered by things, and who remains composed and in control in stressful situations. It suggests a person who is collected, rational, and capable of making sound decisions under pressure. 

Another way of putting this is that it struck me that what I do is less important than how I do it. I tend to think that if I can only accomplish X, Y, and Z, then I'll be happy. However, since often the accomplishing doesn't happen, it would be nice if I could be happy with or without X, Y, and Z.

The Stoic philosophers speak of this sort of thing, arguing that our reaction to what life brings us is within our control to a greater degree than is making life produce the things that we want. 

And it's very much in line with the tenets of mindfulness meditation, as laid out by Jon Kabat-Zinn in his book Wherever You Go, There You Are -- which is my favorite book in this genre. He writes:

We use the word "practice" to describe the cultivation of mindfulness, but it is not meant in the usual sense of a repetitive rehearsing to get better and better so that a performance or a competition will go as well as possible.

Mindfulness practice means that we commit fully in each moment to being present. There is no "performance." There is just this moment. We are not trying to improve or to get anywhere else. We are not even running after special insights or visions. Nor are we forcing ourselves to be non-judgmental, calm, or relaxed.

And we are certainly not promoting self-consciousness or indulging in self-preoccupation. Rather, we are simply inviting ourselves to interface with this moment in full awareness, with the intention to embody as best we can an orientation of calmness, mindfulness, and equanimity right here and right now.

...The spirit of mindfulness is to practice for its own sake, and just to take each moment as it comes -- pleasant or unpleasant, good, bad, or ugly -- and then work with that because it is what is present now. With this attitude, life itself becomes practice. 

Then, rather than doing practice, it might better be said that the practice is doing you, or that life itself becomes your meditation teacher and your guide.

This is possible because meditation is all about not-doing, rather than doing. How difficult is it to do nothing? Not difficult at all. It's really easy. So is mindfulness meditation. No teacher or guide required. Kabat-Zinn says:

Thinking you are unable to meditate is a little like thinking you are unable to breathe, or to concentrate or relax... People often confuse meditation with relaxation or some other special state that you have to get to or feel.

...But meditation is not about feeling a certain way. It's about feeling the way you feel. It's not about making the mind empty or still, although stillness does happen in meditation and can be cultivated systematically.

Above all, meditation is about letting the mind be as it is and knowing something about how it is in this moment. It's not about getting somewhere else, but about allowing yourself to be where you already are.

...Meditation is synonymous with the practice of non-doing. We aren't practicing to make things perfect or to do things perfectly. Rather, we practice to grasp and realize (make real for ourselves) the fact that things already are perfect, perfectly what they are.

This has everything to do with holding the present moment in its fullness without imposing anything extra on it, perceiving its purity and the freshness of its potential to give rise to the next moment.

Then, knowing what is what, seeing as clearly as possible, and conscious of not knowing more than we actually do, we act, make a move, take a stand, take a chance. Some people speak of this as flow, one moment flowing seamlessly, effortlessly into the next, cradled in the streambed of mindfulness.

...Work at allowing more things to unfold in your life without forcing them to happen and without rejecting the ones that don't fit your idea of what "should" be happening.

...Letting go means just what it says. It's an invitation to cease clinging to anything -- whether it be an idea, a thing, an event, a particular time, or view, or desire. It is a conscious decision to release with full acceptance into the stream of present moments as they are unfolding.

To let go means to give up coercing, resisting, or struggling, in exchange for something more powerful and wholesome which comes out of allowing things to be as they are without getting caught up in your attraction to or rejection of them, in the intrinsic stickiness of wanting, of liking and disliking.

It's akin to letting your palm open to unhand something you have been holding on to.

Here's a story of someone's Grand Disillusion with RSSB and Gurinder Singh

It's always a pleasure to hear from someone who has become disillusioned with a religion. In this case, it was a person who had a history fairly similar to mine with an India-based religion, Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB), that is headed up by a guru.

Below you can read the document this person sent to me that's called "The Grand Disillusion." They want to remain anonymous, but said I could share this info about them. The Dera is the RSSB headquarters in the Punjab. Gurinder Singh is the current RSSB guru. Charan Singh was the guru prior to Gurinder Singh. Satsang is a spiritual meeting.

You could let people know I first became involved with RSSB when I was 17 and I am now 69 and spent 15 months at Dera. The disillusionment started with Gurinder Singh. I am cool with Charan Singh but now I must wonder about him because he appointed Gurinder Singh. I still do the meditation as taught to me by Charan Singh and deep down in some crazy place I think that just maybe a glowing man in a beard and turban will appear in my forehead. I have not gone to satsang for the past 20 years. 

Here's what this person wrote.

THE GRAND DISILLUSION

In Sikh cosmology the Grand Dissolution occurs between enormous spans of time where the entire creation is dissolved and reborn. This video is a description of the Grand Dissolution made by Ishwar Puri, a Sawan Singh initiate. It sounds like the ramblings of a crazy man but there was a time when I believed it. I had my own Grand Disillusion with RSSB but I don’t expect anything to be reborn.

It started when I was working in the computer room at the Dera and I saw they were using bootleg software which is equivalent to stealing from the software developer. The lesson learned: It is ok to steal. 

Then I saw the laundryman beat the hell out of one of his staff who was only a child. I told the guest house manager Mr. Desai (who grew up in Gandhi’s ashram) about it expecting him to protect the child. Instead, his eyes flashed in anger and he told me to keep my mouth shut. The lesson learned: beating the hell out of children is OK. 

I re-read Sheena’s book, "Memoirs of a Seeker," excerpts from which can be found on this website. In it she mentions that a known pedophile was in Gurinder Singh’s entourage. Another account on this website mentions a question and answer session where a woman did not know what to do about her husband molesting their daughter. Gurinder Singh told her to “be more loving” which doomed the girl to untold amounts of abuse. The lesson learned: molesting children is ok. 

Sheena also mentions the cutting and devastating remark from Gurinder Singh about her “sleeping around” in front of 50 or so people. The lesson learned: it is ok to hurt and embarrass people. 

Based on the events described in this biography I know exactly who Sheena is and she is not a liar. If you really want to know what Gurinder Singh is like I suggest you read the last 1/3 of this short book that relates to RSSB. Sheena, I would like to write to you. If you are reading this maybe you can write Brian who can give you my email address.  

Here I will compare what I saw and what I was taught.

Be Content:  Be content with what you have. Look at the example of Jagat Singh who refused the gift of a shawl with the response that he kept one in the laundry and one on his person. He said having more than he needed would only complicate his life.

The amount of possessions you will ever own in this life were all predetermined before you were born. This cannot be increased or diminished so be happy with what you have. 

Don’t become obsessed with money. Read Charan Singh's strong words about speculating in the stock market.  

This is what I saw: Don’t be content even if you have 150 million dollars. Instead speculate in real estate and engage in dishonest financial dealings with shell companies where you and your family members will be enriched far beyond one’s needs.  Lesson learned: Greed and dishonesty are OK. 

Be Compassionate: Do not eat meat because it causes pain to the animals. Spiritually minded people are extremely kind hearted and they shy away from hurting any living creature. 

This is what I saw: Ignore the dairy industry which is far more brutal than the meat industry.  India is the largest producer of dairy products in the world and is also the second largest exporter of beef after Brazil. There is a cruel and brutal line between Indian dairies, lassies at the Dera snack bar, and the murder of millions of cows. If geckos are bothering you at the Dera guest house just tell the office and they will send someone to kill them. 

In Petaluma someone asked Gurinder Singh about dairy products and if he had seen the websites that explore its brutality. He cut the questioner off with the statement that “not all countries treat their dairy cows like this” and then quickly went on to the next question. My thought was “torture is not allowed in all countries” so I guess I should be able to torture people. Lesson learned: Exploitation of animals is ok. 

The guru is only pretending to be like everyone else because God told him to pretend he was like everyone else. Don’t expect him to know your name or forecast the weather or the real estate market.  

 All true gurus live in the will of the lord and do not break the laws of nature by performing miracles or using their abilities to forecast the future, even if they have a lot invested in the real estate market. This is because they are obedient sons of God and live in the will of the Lord. 

The other answer could be they are human beings just like everyone else. 

There's value in experiencing new things, even if you're not sure you'll like them

We simply don't know what the future will bring. That's a basic fact of life. I was reminded of that today when I rummaged through a drawer where I keep blank notebooks and notepads, making room for a new supply I'd gotten from Amazon.

Down at the bottom of a bunch of rarely used stuff was an envelope. On it I'd written "Will (open -- obviously -- only if I die)" It was a one-page document dated March 2, 1991 called Last will and testament. 

I'd written it in a period between my marriage to Laurel in 1990 and whenever we got around to having an attorney draw up wills for us, which ended up being living trusts. My motivation was stated in the first paragraph:

Before I leave on a trip to California, I want to set down my wishes regarding my personal property which would be inherited by my beloved wife, Laurel, and my beloved daughter, Celeste. 

While this informal will now has no effect, I found it interesting to read. Especially this section:

While I unconditionally give all that I have to Laurel, I hope that she will do her best to carry out these two wishes:

(1) It would give me great pleasure to be able to donate 10% of the value of my property to the Radha Soami Satsang Beas in India. This probably should be accomplished through the comparable association in America. Some of the satsangis could help you determine how to do this. But I only want you to make such a donation when and if your financial situation permits it.

Please think of your needs first, and please make this donation over a period of ten years or so. In other words, figure out what the 10% equals, and donate 1% a year, if this is comfortable for you. For twenty years I have given 10% of my time to my Master in meditation, and it seems only right to give 10% of my assets to this Path which has provided me with so much love and satisfaction.

Well, about fourteen years later I'd stopped being a member of Radha Soami Satsang Beas, having decided that pursuing other forms of spirituality made more sense to me.

But just as getting divorced from my first wife didn't negate all of the love Sue and I had for each other during most of our eighteen years of marriage, leaving Radha Soami Satsang Beas didn't negate all of the wonderful experiences I had during the thirty-five years I was an active member of the organization.

Recently I wrote about transformative experiences in "If an experience promises to transform us, it's difficult to decide about it." The basic notion put forward by philosopher L.A. Paul is that if an experience (such as having a child) is transformative, the person we will be after we go through that experience is different from the person we are when deciding whether to undergo the experience. 

So which person gets our allegiance? This is a tough question with no easy answers. The best answer Paul comes up with in her book, Transformative Experience, sidesteps the question by approaching it from a different direction. 

In her "The Shock of the New" chapter Paul talks about the decision whether to try a durian for the first time. This is a tropical fruit that I'd never heard of before seeing Paul's mention of it. Wikipedia describes why tasting it involves a bit of a gamble. 

Some people regard the durian as having a pleasantly sweet fragrance, whereas others find the aroma overpowering and unpleasant. The smell evokes reactions ranging from deep appreciation to intense disgust. The persistence of its strong odour, which may linger for several days, has led some hotels and public transportation services in Southeast Asia, such as in Singapore and Bangkok, to ban the fruit.

Here's a passage by Paul that describes one way out of the transformative experience dilemma. 

Instead of constructing the decision in terms of whether you will enjoy the taste of durian or whether you will find it revolting, you can choose to try durian based on whether you want to have a new experience for its own sake, that is, solely for the sake of the value of having the experience, whether what it's like to have that experience is subjectively good or bad. That is, you decide to try a durian for the sake of the revelation the experience of tasting a new kind of fruit brings. 

The relevant outcomes, then, of the decision to have a durian are discovering the taste of durian versus avoiding the discovery of the taste of durian, and the values attached reflect the subjective value of making (or avoiding) this discovery, not whether the experience is enjoyable or unpleasant. If you reconfigure the decision this way, your choice can be framed as a choice of whether to try something new solely for the sake of having the experience that is, for the sake of the revelation it brings.

There's problems with this approach, though, as Paul discusses in other parts of the chapter. For example, in trying something new, like the (mythical) experience of becoming a vampire, we not only have a revelation of what it's like to be a vampire, but we likely will end up giving up preferences we had before becoming a vampire -- like being a vegetarian.

Still, there's a lot to like about looking upon trying new things as an adventure into the unknown that, while the specific outcomes are hidden, we can be sure that we'll learn what it's like to experience that thing -- whether this be pleasant or unpleasant.

When I was initiated into Radha Soami Satsang Beas in 1971 by the guru at that time, Charan Singh, I had no idea how this would end up transforming me. For about thirty-five years I was devoted to the RSSB teachings, though I had doubts about them. Then, those teachings stopped appealing to me and I changed my spiritual course.

But I have no regrets about the time I spent with Radha Soami Satsang Beas, just as I have no regrets about the time I spent with Sue, my first wife. In both cases, I had many good times, and also some bad times.

That's the nature of life: you don't know what will happen or where you'll end up. All you can do is make your way through the twists and turns of life as best you can, making the choices that seem right at the time.

Freedom, says Alan Watts, isn't personal but a quality of the world

I don't believe in free will. But I believe in freedom. This isn't a freedom of my personal will to do what I choose. It is the freedom of realizing that I'm part of the unified whole we call the universe. 

This view is scientific. I much prefer it to unscientific notions of free will that basically say, "Because we humans feel that we have free will, it must be so." Unfortunately, feelings have little or nothing to do with truth.

In his book, Determined, Robert Sapolsky laid out the reasons why free will is an illusion. An appealing illusion, to be sure, but an illusion nonetheless. His core conception is similar to a central tenet of Buddhism: causes and conditions result in stuff happening, with the happening producing more causes and conditions that result in additional stuff happening.

We members of Homo sapiens aren't separate from all the happenings of the universe just because we have an evolved brain/mind that can make us feel like we're observing the world from a detached vantage point.

In truth, we're as much a part of nature as a daisy, rock, wolf, or hurricane is. This is so obvious it really shouldn't need to be pointed out. However, because our mind is prone to seeing ourselves as being an isolated "I" who often is at odds with what is not us, we need to be reminded that our sense of selfhood is a sometimes useful falsehood tossed up by evolution. It isn't the way things truly are.

Alan Watts explains this well in his terrific little book, The Wisdom of Insecurity, which he wrote in 1951. I finished re-reading it today. Here's a passage about the nature of freedom.

The meaning of freedom can never be grasped by the divided mind. If I feel separate from my experience, and from the world, freedom will seem to be the extent to which I can push the world around, and fate the extent to which the world pushes me around.

But to the whole mind there is no contrast of "I" and the world. There is just one process acting, and it does everything that happens. It raises my little finger and it creates earthquakes. Or, if you want to put it that way, I raise my little finger and also make earthquakes. No one fates and no one is being fated.

Of course this is a strange view of freedom. We are accustomed to think that, if there any freedom at all, it resides, not in nature, but in the separate human will and its power of choice.

But what we ordinarily mean by choice is not freedom. Choices are usually decisions motivated by pleasure and pain, and the divided mind acts with the sole purpose of getting "I" into pleasure and out of pain. But the best pleasures are those for which we do not plan, and the worst part of pain is expecting it and trying to get away from it when it has come. You cannot plan to be happy.

I'll end with some additional passages from the book about another seeming truth: our awareness of the world in nondual. Meaning, there isn't (1) the world, and (2) our knowledge of the world. What we know of the world is the world. There's just one thing going on, not two.

Certainly most people feel separate from everything that surrounds them. On the one hand there is myself, and on the other the rest of the universe. I am not rooted in the earth like a tree. I rattle around independently. I seem to be the center of everything, and yet cut off and alone.

...Nevertheless, the physical reality is that my body exists only in relation to this universe, and in fact I am as attached to it and dependent on it as a leaf on a tree. I am cut off only because I am split within myself, because I try to be divided from my own feelings and sensations. What I feel and sense therefore seems foreign to me. And on being aware of the unreality of this division, the universe does not seem foreign any more.

For I am what I know; what I know is I. The sensation of a home across the street or of a star in outer space is no less I than an itch on the sole of my feet or an idea in my brain.

In another sense, I am also what I do not know. I am not aware of my own brain as a brain. In just the same way, I am not aware of the house across the street as a thing apart from my sensation of it. I know my brain as thoughts and feelings, and I know the house as sensations. In the same way and sense that I do not know my own brain, or the house as a thing-in-itself, I do not know the private thoughts in your brain.

But my brain, which is also I, your brain and the thoughts within it, as well as the house across the street, are all forms of an inextricably interwoven process called the real world. Conscious or unconscious of it as I may be, it is all I in the sense that the sun, the air, and human society are just as vital to me as my brain or my lungs.

If then, this brain is my brain -- unaware of it as I am -- the sun is my sun, the air my air, and society my society.

...That there is a sun apart from my sensation of it is an inference. The fact that I have a brain, though I cannot see it, is likewise an inference. We know about these things only in theory, and not by immediate experience. But this "external" world of theoretical objects is, apparently, just as much a unity as the "internal" world of experience.

From experience I infer that it exists. And because experience is a unity -- I am my sensations -- I must likewise infer that this theoretical universe is a unity, that my body and the world form a single process. 

...But you will cease to feel isolated when you recognize, for example, that you do not have a sensation of the sky: you are that sensation. For all purposes of feeling, your sensation of the sky is the sky, and there is no "you" apart from what you sense, feel, and know.

This is why the mystics and many of the poets give frequent utterance to the feeling that they are "one with the All," or "united with God," or, as Sir Edwin Arnold expressed it -- Foregoing self, the universe grows I. 

I ponder the new Pope and the present moment

This morning I turned our TV on, wanting to watch some news while I did my physical therapy exercises, to find that CNN's attention was focused on the Vatican following white smoke coming from a chimney -- the sign, along with bells, that a new Pope has been elected by the cardinals.

I found this fascinating in a theatrical sense.

Meaning, since I'm not at all religious and don't believe in God, who the Pope is only matters to me in a "political" fashion. I liked Pope Francis because he genuinely cared about the poor and downtrodden, a moral quality far removed from Trump's lack of compassion and caring.

But when the new Pope was announced, who shockingly was from the United States, the first time a Pope has been from North America, I was moved by the intense cheering from the large crowd gathered in St. Peter's Square.

When Robert Prevost started to speak -- the Pope name he chose is Leo XIV -- he talked about the need for world peace and loving everyone. Again, this was so refreshing to hear, compared to the crap that issues from Trump's mouth every time he opens it (guess I need to work on loving everybody), that briefly I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

The revealing of a new Pope truly is majestic. Not surprisingly, it appeared that Prevost/Leo XIV was overcome with emotion, though he managed to keep it in check as he uttered his initial remarks as Pope.  I'm no fan of Catholic dogma, but I give the Church high marks for putting on a good show.

Turning to the subject I was planning to focus on in this post before the Pope's selection grabbed my attention, I've been looking through Alan Watts' classic little book (152 pages), The Wisdom of Insecurity.

My granddaughter is about to graduate from high school. I had the idea of sending her a book, along with an accompanying letter, that I've enjoyed as a guide and support when life doesn't turn out how I wanted. Which will happen often to my granddaughter, as it already has to some extent, and as it does to everybody.

I find The Wisdom of Insecurity highly readable, well reasoned, and timeless in a certain sense. Watts wrote it in 1951, yet his analysis of modern society and the stresses people feel is just as applicable today. More so, actually, given the current state of technology, social pressures, and constant online stimulation. 

Here's some passages from the "On Being Aware" chapter that resonated with me.

To understand that there is no security is far more than to agree with the theory that all things change, more even than to observe the transitoriness of life. The notion of security is based on the feeling that there is something within us which is permanent, something which endures through all the days and changes of life.

We are struggling to make sure of the permanence, continuity, and safety of this enduring core, this center and soul of our being which we call "I." For this we think to be the real man -- the thinker of our thoughts, the feeler of our feelings, and the knower of our knowledge. We do not actually understand that there is no security until we realize that this "I" does not exist.

...There is no experience but present experience. What you know, what you are actually aware of, is just what is happening at this moment, and no more.

...To say that experience is momentary is really to say that experience and the present moment are the same thing. To say that this moment is always dying, or becoming past, and always being born, or coming out of the unknown, is to say the same thing of experience. The experience you have just had has vanished irretrievably, and all that remains of it is a sort of wake or track in the present, which we call memory.

While you can make a guess as to what experience is coming next, in actual fact you do not know. Anything might happen. But the experience which is going on now is, as it were, a newborn infant which vanishes before it can even begin to get older.

...To be aware, then, is to be aware of thoughts, feelings, sensations, desires, and all other forms of experience. Never at any time are you aware of anything which is not experience, not a thought or feeling, but instead an experiencer, thinker, or feeler. If this is so, what makes us think that any such thing exists?

We might say, for example, that the "I" who is the thinker is this physical body and brain. But this body is in no way separate from its thoughts and sensations. 

...When you see clearly that memory is a form of present experience, it will be obvious that trying to separate yourself from this experience is as impossible as trying to make your teeth bite themselves. There is simply experience. There is not something or someone experiencing experience!

You do not feel feelings, think thoughts, or sense sensations any more than you hear hearing, see sight, or smell smelling. "I feel fine" means that a fine feeling is present. It does not mean that there is one thing called an "I" and another separate thing called a feeling, so that when you bring them together this "I" feels the fine feeling. 

There are no feelings but present feelings, and whatever feeling is present is "I." No one ever found an "I" apart from some present experience, or some experience apart from an "I" -- which is only to say that the two are the same thing. 

...We are being aware of the fact that any separate "I" who thinks thoughts and experiences experience is an illusion. To understand this is to realize that life is entirely momentary, that there is neither permanence nor security, and that there is no "I" which can be protected. 

...The real reason why human life can be so utterly exasperating and frustrating is not because there are facts called death, pain, fear, or hunger. The madness of the thing is that when such facts are present, we circle, buzz, writhe, and whirl, trying to get the "I" out of the experience. 

...Sanity, wholeness, and integration lie in the realization that we are not divided, that man and his present experience are one, and that no separate "I" or mind can be found.

Deep thoughts about my obsession with a frustrating Starlink internet problem

For a bit more than 24 hours I've been obsessed. Not with the state of suffering humanity. Not with how I can become a better person. Not with any high level moral obsession that I'd be proud of.

No, my obsession was with why our normally reliable Starlink satellite internet had stopped working. This is our only genuine broadband option out here in the wilds of rural south Salem, Oregon, where we live a whole six miles from the city limits of a state capital but have "broadband" options that people in Outer Mongolia would scoff at. (6-7 Mbps DSL over copper phone lines isn't broadband).

But that's another story. My story in this post is about the deep meaning of my obsession and how it turned out. I have to write about this, because at the moment that's all I'm able to think about.

I won't go into all of the geeky details of what I've done in the past day, which started when I came home yesterday afternoon and found that our Starlink broadband had gone offline. Usually restarting the router solves the problem.

That didn't work. I tried other suggestions on the Starlink app on my iPhone, which I could only access with our dreadfully slow cellular connection, just 1-3 Mbps at best. (Yeah, we truly do live in an internet desert of sorts.) We have a Verizon range extender, but it requires an internet connection. 

I reset the router to factory settings. Didn't work. I switched the router with another Starlink router I'd installed downstairs to form a mesh network for better coverage. Didn't work. Sometimes the router would connect with the dish on our roof, but almost instantly the connection would be lost. That told me the problem likely was with the router, not the dish. 

I'd put in a support request with Starlink, but aside from what looked like a canned response based on the key words in my request, I couldn't contact a real human being. Starlink is a technical marvel but its support is minimal at best, as it can take days or even weeks to get a response. Last night I decided to order a new Starlink router from Amazon. The delivery was to be between 5-10 pm today.

After spending most of last night trying everything I could think of to get our Starlink system working, and an hour or so this morning, I was really frustrated.

I'm a news junkie. Also a streaming TV junkie. I love to follow the news throughout the day on my iPhone, iPad, and laptop. In the evening I love to zone out with something non-political. Recently I started watching Game of Thrones, as I'd only seen a single episode when the series first came out. Now I'm hooked on it. So the withdrawal period yesterday and tonight was tough.

As soon as 5 pm arrived today I started opening the front door frequently to see if the new router had arrived from Amazon. At 7:30, about two hours ago, it had. Visions of Game of Thrones and internet surfing burst into my head. I ripped open the box and replaced the old router with the new one, then waited for the good news.

Sadly, there was bad news.

A red light appeared after several minutes, a sign that the router couldn't connect with the dish on our roof, which happens via a cable. I reset the router. The same thing happened. Now my frustration was really extreme. I'd been convinced that the problem was with the router, not the dish. If the dish needed to replaced, that was going to be more expensive and take more time.

Still, I started to look at how quickly I could get a new dish, either from Starlink or a local reseller. Staring  at the list of things to purchase on the Starlink web site, I noticed that a DC power supply looked like the power supply of our current third generation dish, which is considerably smaller than the power supply that came with the new router I'd just bought. (Starlink used to have a separate power supply for the dish and router; now the dish gets its power from the router.)

That led me to what turned out to be a great idea: use the old power supply with the new router. When I did that, bingo! Almost an instant connection. I'd been correct that the old router was the problem. But I'd assumed that I should use the power supply that came with the new router, which apparently didn't have enough oomph (technical electrical term) to power our dish.

Well, I've gotten more geeky than I expected. I guess it is therapeutic for me to convey my deep frustration with trying to fix the Starlink problem, and then deep relief when I finally found the solution, though a lot of trial and error (mostly error, until the very end).

Here's what I take away from this experience.

 For over a day my mind was consumed with how to get our broadband functional again. I did do some other things, like go grocery shopping today, but Starlink was in my thoughts, lurking in the background when it wasn't in the foreground. I knew that this wasn't a highly meditative thing for me to do, being so obsessed with the problem that I had difficulty living in the present moment. It was hard for me to sleep last night, as I kept thinking about the problem and what may be causing it. 

But here's the thing.

All my worrying, all my distress, all my frustrations -- all that served to keep driving me forward to find a way out of those painful feelings. It'd be going too far to say that this was similar to the Great Doubt of Zen Buddhism. Still, I've said it, as I like the idea that I've gained something from what I went through yesterday and today.

I wish I was more of a relaxed person. Usually I sort of am. However, when something consumes me, when I feel a strong drive to do something, I can get pretty intense. Part of me wishes I wasn't this way, but another part says, "If you weren't this way, you wouldn't be who you are."

I'm a strong believer that often our greatest strengths are our greatest weaknesses. We want to have one without the other. I doubt that this is possible. What annoys me about myself (and annoys other people also, I'm sure) can be an asset in certain circumstances. I didn't give up on finding a solution to the Starlink problem, even though I was tempted to find someone in our area who installs Starlink systems and turn the problem over to them.

In the end, it was simply looking at a picture of a power supply on the Starlink web site that caused my mind to say, "Hey, you should try switching the power supplies." So in that sense it wasn't me that solved the problem, it was the wider world. Which sounds pleasingly Buddhist. I'll end on that note.

If an experience promises to transform us, it's difficult to decide about it

Should you become a vampire if the opportunity presented itself? More realistically, should you have a child? If you're deaf from birth, should you get a cochlear implant? 

These questions, among others, are raised by philosopher L.A. Paul in her book, Transformative Experience. It's a fascinating look at something I'd never thought much about before: if an experience promises to transform us, it's difficult to decide whether to have the experience.

I'll add a question that came to mind as I read the book. Should you join a religion or other form of spirituality that claims to be able to markedly alter your view of yourself and reality as a whole?

I first heard of L.A. Paul and Transformative Experience through an article in the December 9, 2024 issue of The New Yorker. The online version is titled "The Philosopher L.A. Paul Wants Us to Think About Our Selves: To whom should we have allegiance -- the version of ourself making choices, or the version of ourself who will be affected by them?"

I'll share a PDF file if the link doesn't work for you.
Download The Philosopher L. A. Paul Wants Us to Think About Our Selves | The New Yorker

The article was so interesting, I decided to buy the book. It goes into considerably more detail about transformative experiences, but the basic problem addressed by Paul is appealingly simple.

Usually we make a decision about whether to do something by considering the expected value of either doing, or not doing, that something. Expected value is simple conceptually, though statistically can get pretty complicated. Here's one non-mathematical explanation.

If someone offered you a free beer, but told you there’s a 1% chance it contains poison, you wouldn’t drink it. That’s because the badness of drinking poison far outweighs the goodness of getting a free beer, so even though you’re very unlikely to end up with poison, it’s not worth drinking.

We all make decisions about risk and uncertainty like this in our daily lives. And when trying to do good, we often face even greater uncertainty about the ultimate effects of our actions, especially when we consider all their long-term effects.

In practice, we don’t — and can’t — know for sure what the effects of our actions will be. The best we can do is to consider all of the good and bad things that could result from an action, and weigh them by how likely we think they are to actually happen. So you should think of the possibility of dying in a car crash as twice as concerning if it’s twice as likely.

We call this the ‘expected value’ of our actions, which is the technical term for the sum of all the good and bad potential consequences of an action, weighted by their probability. (You can read more about the technical definition here; it’s why in our definition of social impact, we say what matters is promoting ‘expected wellbeing,’ rather than just ‘wellbeing.’)

For example, if a disaster rescue effort has a 10% chance of saving 100 people, then its expected value is saving 10 lives.

If another effort has a 20% chance of saving 50 lives, then it would also save 10 lives in expectation, and so we could say it has similar expected value.

Of course, it’s rare to be able to have that much precision in your estimate of either the total potential benefits or the likelihood that they occur. But you can sometimes make rough, informed guesses, and it can be better to work with a rough guess than with no idea at all.

Paul, though, points out a complication with transformative experiences such as those I mentioned at the start of this post. If the action you take ends up making you into a different sort of person than you were when you decided to undertake that action, rationally there's no way for you to predict the action's expected value, because the deciding self is different from the experiencing self.

Consider becoming a vampire. That sounds ghastly to me in my current human form. But as Paul says, which fits with what I've learned about (fictional, thankfully) vampires, after someone becomes a vampire, reportedly they love their new blood-sucking self and want to convert others to vampire'ness.

So in my current state of mind, I definitely don't want to become a vampire. However, if an opportunity to become a vampire presented itself and I said "Go ahead, bite me," I'd be thrilled with that decision because I'd have been transformed into a person who is beyond happy with being a vampire.

Deciding whether to have a child is a very different decision, but similarly transformative. I can attest to that, since while I've never become a vampire, I became a parent in 1972 when my daughter Celeste was born.

As Paul notes in both the article and book, it is impossible to know what it's like for you to have a child until you've experienced this. Sure, you can talk to people who have decided to remain childless as well as to people who have decided to have children.

But they're not you, with all of your unique characteristics, values, preferences, and such. And other peoples's children aren't the child you will have should you decide become a parent. You don't know if your child will be perfectly healthy or suffer from some birth defect. You don't know how easy or difficult it will be to care for your child. And you don't know how becoming a parent will change you.

I recall thinking soon after my daughter was born, "I no longer feel like a child of my parents; now I feel like a parent of my child." Big difference. Suddenly my wife and I were responsible for a helpless baby that needed constant care. Becoming a parent was both more satisfying and more difficult than my pre-child self expected. 

Likewise, Paul speaks of how members of the Deaf community (she capitalizes the word) have mixed feelings about cochlear implants that allow deaf people to hear for the first time, albeit imperfectly. Some deaf people feel that the experience of being part of a tight-knit Deaf community outweighs the benefits of being able to hear. Others feel differently.

But until a deaf person has a cochlear implant, they don't know how this transformative experience will affect them. It's different if someone lost their hearing, as they know what it means to be able to hear. Again, it doesn't really help to talk with both people who are congenitally deaf and people able to hear from birth, because anyone considering a cochlear implant is unique and how they will be transformed by the implant experience is impossible to know in advance.

The problem seems unsolvable, and in a way it is. But Paul suggests one way to look at transformative experiences, that makes sense to me. I'll save that for another post, though.

Here's a passage from her book that will give you a feel for her writing style. Clear, yet decidedly philosophical. After all, she's a philosopher.

What you care about, when making a decision about your own personal future, is not the third person descriptive knowledge that you will have certain properties in the future, but your experience-based first personal knowledge of what it will be like for you to have these properties.

In other words, you care about what it will be like for you to experience your future, because you want to determine your preferences in terms of your expected subjective values. For example, maximizing your expected subjective value of becomes a species-typical hearer is what you care about when you make the decision to get a cochlear implant.

When we confront the decision to become a vampire, or to have a child, or to become a violinist, and so on, from our first personal perspective, a third-personal way of assessing and modeling the experiential outcomes is often insubstantial and unhelpful, because it merely involves describing the experiences, not determining their subjective values.

The special, first personal sense in which you know what it will be like to experience the likely results of your choice is the sense that fits with our centered perspective on the world and is reflected in our subjective values.

...Transformative experiences, then, confront you with the basic unknowability of your subjective future in a context where new and dramatic changes are occurring, and transformative decision-making draws out the consequences of that epistemic fact.

In an important sense, when facing a transformative choice, you lack the knowledge you need in order to have authority and control over who you will become when you choose how to act... Instead, you grope forward in deep ignorance of what your future conscious life will be like.

Gurus take us into the realm of lost souls

After writing about Steven Harrison's book in my previous post, "Doing Nothing -- a book about ending the spiritual search," below are additional passages that appealed to me.

Which doesn't mean that I resonate with everything in Doing Nothing. Some parts are a bit overly New Age'y for me, and I came across a mention of divinity that seems at odds with Harrison's message. But on the whole, I enjoy his blunt assessment of the problem with spiritual searching.

Basically, it boils down to a simple assertion that is in line with both neuroscience and Zen: whenever we're seeking salvation, enlightenment, mystical experience, or whatever for ourself, this ends up strengthening our sense of self -- and that sense is what keeps us from feeling at ease in this messy, confusing, changeable world, our only true home. 

To give an example from my life, and my sense of self, whenever I use the circuit training weight room at our athletic club, I get annoyed when someone is sitting at a machine I want to use for longer than I think they need to.

But my view of what the proper time is comes from the way I use the machines, which is pretty quickly, usually just 20 repetitions, aside from 48 repetitions on the abdominal machine. And certainly at times I will be using a machine that prevents someone else from using it.

So recently I've been silently saying, Hope you're having a good workout, when I find myself getting annoyed at a person who, in my irritated frame of mind, seems to be camping out on a machine I want to use. This relaxes me. I no longer feel like I'm in a battle with the other person. They're just doing what I'm doing, exercising in the circuit training weight room in their own way.

In these passages Harrison speaks of how we confer authority upon a guru or spiritual teacher because we wrongly believe that this will benefit ourself, a self-centered point of view.

This teacher is our projection, the reflection of our fear, anxiety, and laziness. We project a father figure who is certain, authoritative, and disciplined. We project a mother figure who is nurturing, forgiving, and uncritical.

...This guru game is like the enlightenment game, we play it because we do not want to face our emptiness.

We have misunderstood our confusion when we think there is an answer to it. The confusion is not a result of questions that are too hard, but rather a questioner who is disintegrating. Confusion is the introduction to true intelligence. This is an intelligence without a center and without the dominance of thought.

If we sacrifice that intelligence in the name of the guru, if we put aside our spiritual responsibility for the authority of another, we have entered the realm of lost souls. Beware all those who enter here. The souls are lost. The guru is lost.

Power is corruption. There is abundant evidence in the sex and money scandals of a multitude of gurus that this is the case. How many insightful and charismatic teachers have become mired in intrigue and deception as their followers rationalize their leader's behavior?

The movement to increasing stupidity is the very nature of this structure, because the first step, the abdication of responsibility, is a misstep.

Harrison also warns against the lure of seeking experiences through meditation. This is another trap, often linked to the guru trap, since sometimes a guru is a person's meditation teacher.

It should not be surprising then that meditation becomes the hunt for experiences. The mind that is dissatisfied with its life is dissatisfied with itself and looks for this other.

There is a state of bliss, a state of peace, a state of love that it hunts for, a state that will be different, better, more complete than the mind which is hunting.

And yet, the field in which the mind hunts for this other, is the mind itself.

Finding nothing but itself, the mind, the meditator, looks for significance in what it finds. It finds experiences, states, gods and demons. From this it creates descriptions, explanations, and instructions. From this are created philosophy and religion. 

...The mind has folded into itself. It has discovered a self-created truth and yet is still contained within itself. 

If we are told to sit, close our eyes and look for the white light, we will create that white light. Or Buddha. Or Shiva. Or Jesus.

This is interesting in its own way. We can be educated or conditioned to experience particular phenomena in our meditation.

It can appear to be a joyful experience to find our god in meditation. But where did our god come from? Is this not a projection of the same mind that is in profound conflict? Isn't our god, the serene and compassionate one, an expression of this conflict? By creating this being of light, do we not imply that we exist in the shadows, that we are not that? Are we not still in conflict?

...The question is often asked, "How do we go beyond our minds?" The question presumes that we will still be there observing it all when "beyond" is reached. Beyond the mind means beyond the questioner, so who will be there to observe?

...We do not live lives of originality and discovery, but rather lives echoing the perspectives we have inherited.

The most fundamental conditioning is that of "I am," the basic sense of self-centeredness. This is the sense that there is a thinker who thinks thoughts and who somehow lives in our bodies. This is the illusion that we have location. 

...Any approach to ourselves is from ourselves and is consequently part of the conditioning. It is a hopeless dilemma, and there is nothing we can do about it.

So, can we do nothing? A simple thing: nothing. There is a fundamental quiet in nothing.

...Doing nothing outlines the doer in an unmistakable way. If we wish to approach our mind, the most direct way is to do nothing. If we want to go beyond our mind, do nothing.

Perhaps what becomes most clear when we do nothing is that thought keeps on going, as though we were doing something. There is great humor in this. There is no on/off switch to thought. We are sure that we are the thinker of these thoughts, but they seem to have a mind of their own.

But if these thoughts do have a mind of their own, then who is the thinker? And more important, where is this thinker, this "me"?

The most fascinating thing is that we cannot find the thinker anywhere. Thoughts are coming and going, feelings, images, plans, dreams, fears and even commentaries on these thoughts are occurring. But, we cannot find the thinker in the nothingness anywhere. Just thought. 

...Our entire reality is built upon a premise of a "me" located in our body. Perhaps it is time to look again.