The Limits of Rationality

When you're faced with a choice, what guides your decision?  When you assess the value of a new idea, what do you look for?  What can compel you to examine your closely held beliefs and change your mind?

When I answer these sorts of questions, my answers involve things like logic and evidence,  I think most people would respond similarly.

Endless volumes on psychology, sociology, political science, behavioral economics, and market research inform us that people rarely act rationally.  People think and act irrationally with such frequency and regularity that the patterns are easily predictable (eg. see the Wikipedia entry on cognitive bias).  Generally speaking, beliefs and behaviors are not directly influenced by little things like facts, logic, or even self-interest.

So if we have this pathetic lack of motivation and/or ability to think and behave rationally, why do we need to appear to be rational, both to ourselves and to others?  Why do we delude ourselves with the notion that we arrive at our beliefs by some logical process?  Maybe it's innate.  It's natural to infer broad lessons from subjective, anecdotal experiences.  But I think part of the issue is modern and postmodern culture.  Modernism celebrates the triumph of logic, science, and engineering over the natural world.  And postmodernism celebrates self-awareness, which is the result of a rational process.

We've all been told that making decisions based on impulse is reckless.  Making decisions based on emotion is weak.  Making decisions based on spiritual guidance is kooky or primitive.  And doing things according to tradition signifies a lack of insight, independence, and creativity.

These critiques are all completely valid, at least in certain cases.  And even people who don't endorse those critiques usually insist that their own intuition, and their emotions, and their traditions are rooted in some underlying structure which itself is rational.

I've been fortunate to be close friends with some rare individuals who do not think this way.  They've taught me that logic cannot define or inform what is important or valuable.  I've been thinking recently about my future.  Do I want to continue with my current vocation, with good income and job stability?  Or do I want to pursue a career based on passion, with no guaranteed income?  Logic can be useful in helping me make that decision, but only insofar as it is informed by my values and desires.  Rationality cannot tell me what I value, nor what I should.

Different people value different things.   Evaluating anything as good or bad is inherently subjective - good or bad for whom?  What is good for me may not be good for you. Even the values we consider universal are just as subjective as any other.  For example, practically all ethical and moral frameworks assume that human life is valuable.  Millions of human lives have been improved or prolonged by modern medicine.  But in the development of medicine, how many animals were intentionally harmed or killed?  From a human perspective, maybe it's worth the price.  But I don't think we would convince the lab rats, even if they could comprehend our arguments.

Sometimes the moral thing to do is better than the rational thing.  Maybe a reckless, impulsive act can initiate a great romance.  A high-risk, long-shot gamble is never logical.  But the point is lost on anyone who ever took the gamble and won.

So I no longer try to justify my values with some rationalization.  If I do something based on empathy, or morality, or emotion, or impulse, or intuition, or tradition, or social grace, that's okay.  I own it!  I don't need to defend it with false logic - not to anyone - not to myself.

Of course, none of this is meant as an attack on rationality.  On the contrary, rational self-awareness is necessary for contemplating the implications of our values.  We devalue logic and facts when we falsely claim our opinions and values are derived from some objective truth.  And we even devalue our humanity, because what it means to be human and have human values has never been defined by rationality.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

What Do You Believe In?

What do you believe in?  Do you believe in God?  Do you believe in Christ, or Muhammad?  Do you believe in Karma and rebirth?  Do you believe in Heaven and Hell?  Do you believe in predestination or in free will?

When you talk about religion in the West, questions about belief seem to be at the very core.  As I grew up, I thought about these sorts of questions a lot.  But I haven't seen the same emphasis on belief outside of Christianity and Islam.  Sometimes, people will ask me what do Buddhists believe?  And I always have to pause, because it's the wrong question to ask.

Imagine someone asking a Christian, "How do Christians behave?"  The answer might involve following the Ten Commandments, or the teachings of Jesus, or attending church on Sundays.  But the question misses the point.  If I don't believe in Jesus as the savior and as the son of God, then I'm not a Christian, even if I behave as a Christian does or should.

Buddhist teaching (at least Theravada), on the other hand, focuses on action and awareness.  Buddha didn't teach people what to believe.  He taught people to develop awareness and to act with compassion.  My teacher, Bhante Devananda encourages visitors to his temple to continue with whatever religious beliefs they have or grew up with. The important thing, he says, is how you think and act, not what you believe.

"Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones. Buddhist systems of thought are guiding means; they are not absolute truth." -Thich Nhat Hanh

But that doesn't mean that beliefs are not important.  Our beliefs have a large impact on how we perceive the world around us and on how we think.  Our perceptions and thoughts then impact our behavior in very direct ways.

Buddhist practice encourages me to ask myself the following questions about each of my beliefs:

• Does this belief conflict with my other beliefs, with what I've experienced, with what I've seen or been told, and if so, how do I reconcile that?
• Does this belief have a positive or negative influence on how I feel and how I perceive things around me?
• Does this belief inspire me to act responsibly and benevolently?
• Does this belief help or impede my ability to create and maintain interpersonal connections?
• Does this belief help or impede my ability to be productive and achieve my goals?
• Does this belief help or impede my resilience in the face of adversity and challenge?

I'm the type of person who's naturally inclined to ask these sorts of questions.  But I realize that puts me in the minority.  These may be difficult questions to answer objectively.  For most people, it's difficult just to ask these questions.  And confronting the implications of the answers can be extremely challenging, even painful.

In this same line of thought, when I have a debate with someone, I try to stop myself and ask, am I being helpful?  It's natural for us to argue our beliefs, especially if we feel strongly or have solid evidence.  But if the audience is not receptive, it might be best to drop the argument.  Is it more important to be right or to be helpful?  The question seems to answer itself when the other person isn't willing to listen anyways.

Even accepting that it's better to be helpful, I find it can be difficult to act accordingly.  But it's a challenge that I will continually work at overcoming.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Me Against the World

Do you ever get the feeling like the everyone is against you?  Do you look around at successful people (whatever that means to you) and feel like they had it easier?

I've felt like that my whole life.  I was an outcast in school.  Sometimes I tried to fit in with the crowd, other times I embraced my outsider identity.  But either way, I always felt like people and the larger society were against me.

You could argue endlessly about real versus imagined grievances and what is fair or just.  But hopefully we can agree that some people in some situations face very real obstacles based on class, race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, appearance, and innumerable other social and personal factors.  The world isn't fair, and none of us individually can do much about that.  All that is in our control is how we respond to the people and situations that we encounter.

Some people respond with a victim mentality.  This used to be me.  Whether my grievance was real or imagined, I avoided responsibility for myself and my situation.  I would look around with envy and imagine how my life might be different if only I had the opportunities of that person over there.

But if you have genuine grievances and face real obstacles, why not claim your victim status and blame those responsible?  First of all, blame is not accountability,  But that's another topic.

To identify as a victim is to surrender yourself to circumstance.  This is a mentality that belongs to immaturity.  A young child has no responsibility and needs others to take care of it.  Many parents fail to help their children mature properly.  Overbearing parents actively feed the victim mentality past its useful stage.  People generally stop indulging the victim attitude in adults by their early twenties at the latest.  The mature approach to life's challenges is to be the hero of your biography.  Heroes rise to the challenge of adversity and refuse to be defined by their circumstances.

Some people overcompensate for victimhood, lashing out at the world with anger and aggression.  They channel those fiery emotions into a drive to compete and to prove themselves.  But no matter how much they achieve, this attitude can never be satiated.

"It is not sufficient that I succeed - all others must fail." -Larry Ellison (dubiously attributed to Genghis Khan)

This hyper-aggressive attitude is not the hero mentality, but a superficial imitation of one.  It is the victim attitude, just inverted - a reactionary compulsion to tyrannically dominate one's circumstance.  Both victims and tyrants are defined by their circumstances, even when they overcome.  Heroes define themselves by their values, even when they fail and succumb to their challenges.

In Return of the Jedi, where the other rebels see only a villain, Luke looks beneath Vader's monstrous facade to reveal a weak human being, redeemable despite his flaws.  And Luke triumphs over both Vader and Palpatine without killing either.  A hero never desires to destroy his or her opponents and acquire power.

Recently, I learned to let go of the victim attitude.  And I've seen real, positive results.  First of all, when I assume the world is not against me, I feel less anxiety and stress.  And I feel more confident and optimistic.

But the benefits go well beyond the intangibles.  I've noticed that when I was battling against the world, I reacted defensively to situations and ended up seeing or even creating problems where there weren't any.  For example, in proactively defending my own religions views, I've unintentionally offended Christians who would otherwise have no issue with me.  In this way, the victim/tyrant mentality acts as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I saw the same pattern recently in a friend of mine.  I posted on Facebook a call for gun rights supporters to offer ideas for reducing gun violence.  And the first response was a friend who completely missed what I actually said.  He reacted by supporting gun rights and attacking gun control.  I did not disrespect or even question his beliefs.  But at that moment, my friend saw me as an enemy.  He saw a hostile criticism in my post, when I was trying to facilitate a conversation that transcended exactly that divisive rhetoric.  But I understand his reaction, because I've done the same sort of thing in the past.

After learning this lesson, I define my identity by my values, not my circumstance.  And I respond to the world from a center of inner strength, developed through taking responsibility for myself.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

The Pursuit of Pleasure

“Man is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed.” –Henry George

I've battled depression throughout adolescence and for several periods of my adult life.  For the past few years, I've been studying happiness, determined to completely overcome depression.

Our society seems to tell us that happiness is so fundamental that everyone will just figure it out, while simultaneously treating it like it's some elusive ghost that can never be fully understood or explained.

But what does happiness really mean?  Looking around my great nation, I can find many answers to that question.  I might think happiness is fame.  But despite the infinite potential for personal connection, so many famous people struggle with relationships and intimacy.  I might think happiness is having endless strings of one-night stands with attractive women.  But the men I've known who've lived that lifestyle, despite the enjoyment, always have a large, almost tangible emptiness in their lives.  I might think happiness is owning fancy trinkets, a mansion, and a yacht.  But many rich people seem to be overwhelmed with bitterness and anger.  Maybe I'm a romantic and I think happiness is a faery tale ending.  But I've never seen such a thing in real life.  Or maybe I'm disillusioned and think happiness is found in a drug.  I've known plenty of addicts, none of whom I'd call happy.

So it seems there's a disconnect.  I've mistaken pleasure for happiness.  The two aren't mutually exclusive, but they're definitely not synonymous.  Happiness is a deep-rooted contentment.  Pleasure is fleeting and superficial.  Pleasure is sensual, while happiness is almost like a personality trait.  Pleasure is something external that you experience, something that happens to you.  Happiness comes from within.  It's something you do, something you cultivate.  People who are happy are hopeful and optimistic.  People in a moment of pleasure are often anxious about the inevitable end of the pleasure.

If pleasure and happiness are so different, then why did I confuse them?  Happiness is not a product that can be bought for $29.95.  But pleasure is.  And in an individualistic, materialistic, media saturated, consumerist culture, it's economically beneficial to convince everyone that maximizing pleasure will lead to happiness.  Thus this lie has been so widely spread that it's become the cornerstone of our entire economy for the past century.

But people who really understand religion and spirituality know that' all the teachings (in any religion) about temptation are warning us about this exact problem.  So how does the lie keep perpetuating in a country with such high religiosity?  We're taught about temptation in terms of good and evil.  I might be tempted to do something evil, like to steal something I want or hurt someone I don't like.  Or I might be tempted to engage in premarital sex.  In these sorts of cases, the acts are considered to be morally wrong.  So we, as a culture, have defined temptation as a desire to do wrong.  Pleasure doesn't enter into our conversation on the topic.

But most of us realize intuitively that temptation is not the desire to do wrong, it's the desire for pleasure.  Sometimes pleasure entails something morally wrong, and sometimes it doesn't.  So what's the problem with temptation and pleasure when there's no crime or victim?  Five years ago, I would have told you there is no problem.  And I saw that conclusion as a critique of religion in general.  Anton LaVey sold a lot of books thanks in part to that very critique.  But I have a different perspective today.  Time spent in pursuit of pleasure could instead be spent in pursuit of happiness.  It could be spent in communion with friends.  It could be spent learning.  It could be spent making the world a better place.  So the problem with pleasure, is that it motivates us to act from our base impulses, rather than our higher ideals.

The most pious and saintly of people might say for that reason, we should avoid all pleasure and resist all temptation.  Maybe they're right.  But I'm not going to live my life by that.  I don't have the discipline even if I wanted to.  I think moderation will serve most of us well enough.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

What Can We Learn from Nature?

It's striking to me that people who believe in a creator God rarely seem to have a contemplative orientation for God's creation.  Maybe they appreciate nature in some way.  Maybe they enjoy camping or canoeing.  But in my experience, few people, especially religious people, approach the natural world with a strong desire to understand it's underlying principles.  And fewer yet seek to reflect on the implications of those principles on religion and spirituality.

Primitive religions were always inextricably bound to the observable natural world.  But we've continually removed ourselves from nature, into a world of our own fashioning, at least superficially.  And our religions have made that journey with us.  Nature for us exists for aesthetic appreciation or scientific observation.  Aside from some eccentric poets, new agers, and hippies, the natural world does not invoke our deep spiritual sense of wonder and reverence.

Religious people look to scripture and sermon to understand God.  But if you believe in a creator God, whether personified or not, then you believe in a god who is the God of Nature.  So it seems to me that you can learn more about the God of Nature by observing the natural world than by reading some translation of something that someone said that someone else said that God said thousands of years ago.

Eastern religions respect nature a lot more than Western religions do.  But I think the average Easterner is just as disconnected as we in the West.  Even new age enthusiasts, and Wiccans, and the like who intentionally use the vocabulary of the natural world rarely reflect on the sheer chaos of existence.  For them, Gaea is a loving, benevolent Mother.  They ignore ruthless violence caused by predators, parasites, and natural disasters.

We are moral creatures.  And to behave immorally we either compartmentalize or  rationalize our behavior.   Morality is so fundamental to our experience that even non-religious people struggle when contemplating the amorality of the natural world.

Jonathan Haidt defined the two universal dimensions of morality as compassion and fairness.  But there are essentially no universal manifestations of these values in nature.  How do we reconcile that?  One way is separate our selves from nature.  This is the story of creation in Western religions.  In Genesis 1, humans were created as categorically separate from and superior to the natural world.  And in Genesis 2, humans begin as part of nature, but are exiled from their 'natural' place upon eating the fruit of knowledge.  The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil is singled out from all others trees in Eden.  The implication is that the concepts of good and evil don't belong in the natural world.  And as soon as humans stepped into the realm of duality, we no longer belonged in the natural world.

But if you don't want to avoid contemplating the natural world, what do we find?

• Nothing is permanent.  The world is in constant motion, rotating and revolving.  Erosion and plate tectonics change the landscape.  Living things come into being, grow, and then die.
• Sometimes change is dramatic and quick.  Other times change occurs so subtly or gradually it is imperceptible, and might only be observed in retrospect.
• Life is not sacred (well to be fair, the concept of sanctity doesn't really have any applicability to nature).  To quote Carlin, "If everything that ever lived is dead, and everything alive is going to die, then where does the sacred part come in?"
• If you assume that life (generally speaking) has purpose, its purpose appears to be the perpetuation and expansion of life.
• There is diversity everywhere that there is activity.  The inorganic world is made up of thousands of different materials.  And the organic world displays unending variation.
• Actions have consequences.  Whether mechanical or biological, effects have causes, and causes have effects.  Nothing arises without preconditions.
• We can observe the interconnectedness of everything.  Just think of how an entire ecosystem can collapse if a key element is removed or altered.
• Natural systems progress in the direction of equilibrium.  
• Real equilibrium is rarely seen because natural systems are almost never self-contained.
• When disequilibrium occurs in a natural system, correction may take thousands of years.  And the manner of the correction may not be beneficial, depending on your perspective.  A system never 'returns' to equilibrium.  Instead it always moves toward a new equilibrium.
• We can discern patterns in nature.  The patterns suggest that natural systems are governed by laws which can be discerned, at least in fragments.  And by understanding the patterns, we can make general predictions with high accuracy, and specific predictions with a useful amount of accuracy.
• Because natural systems are complex and dynamic, and because they are never self-contained and isolated, they prohibit a comprehensive understanding.  That is to say, we cannot predict anything in nature with high specificity and with complete certainty.  That is to say, even if you understand the math, there are too many variables to allow a practical comprehensive calculation.
• When observing life, as with everything else in nature, we see a conspicuous lack of any moral or ethical order.  Parasites and predators devour their prey with no remorse, and no respect for any sort of ethical code.  Some creatures give birth to hundreds of offspring at a time, only to have a one or two survive past infancy.  Some creatures seem to exist only to suffer and to be victimized.  Others (think parasites) seem to exist only to cause pain and suffering, and to procreate, causing yet more pain and suffering.  And mutations, which are the very mechanism for evolution, are more often harmful than helpful.

So what can we learn from all of this?  That's a question of interpretation.  But it's question that is not being asked frequently enough.

Here are some of my interpretations.  There is no eternal "Truth" to be found.  No matter how much we (especially as individuals) can perceive, and learn, and know, and theorize, it is always only a small fraction of what can be understood.  Morality and ethics do not come from God or some natural law, but come from us and our own interests. We should not only respect diversity, but recognize it's inherent value.  We should exercise caution when we act, because actions always have consequences beyond what is intended.  We should take extraordinary care when we create imbalance in a natural system that has been stable for a long time.  And we should try to never disrupt natural systems that have value and benefit to us.

I invite you to contemplate these questions and come to your own conclusions.  But be mindful not to rely solely on your own personal observations.  All of our senses are both limited and flawed.  So it is important to include scientific research in our 'observation' of nature.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

A Call for Ritual

As far back as I could remember, I always thought rituals and ceremonies were silly, pointless things.  I'm a skeptic and pragmatist.  I failed to see any purpose which was served by rituals in general.  Maybe some people enjoyed participating in these hokey events.  But I was just bored.

Recently I've been learning about the purpose which rituals serve, primarily from reading Joseph Campbell.  Rituals anchor the vicissitudes of our chaotic lives in a sort of mythic narrative that provides meaning and structure.    For example a rite of passage allows us to experience in a virtual, but not vicarious manner, a death of our current identity and a birth into our new, transformed selves.  On a physical level, it doesn't do anything.  But psychologically, it can have a big impact.  Our brains don't work logically (even for rational types such as me).  They are capable of logic, but they are quirky, temperamental things.  Our brains are plastic, but making a change in our thinking requires more than a decision to do so.  Think back to your state of mind shortly after a breakup with an important romantic partner.  Maybe you wanted to just forget about him or her.  But you'll remember it wasn't that easy, even if you had the perspective to know you'll be fine in the end.  Getting our brains to actually change the way they work requires gradual, habitual change or intense, dramatic shock which leads to trauma and/or catharsis.  A ritual, at its best, can create this sort of dramatic shock and provide the structure and context to be cathartic.

I had genuinely failed to acknowledge the important function that ritual can serve in our psychological and spiritual lives.  But the fault wasn't entirely due to a failure of perspective.  In our culture, we don't have many rituals.  Rituals are generally rooted in religion and spirituality.  But in our pluralistic, secular society, religion has been relegated  to a predetermined time and place, away from all other aspects of our lives.  Our culture is centered on libertarian economic theory and consumerism.  And the rituals that come out of those are either not rituals at all (in the case of Black Friday shopping for example), or they have no psychological benefit (like in the case of an indulgent sweet sixteen party).

But really, this isn't the biggest problem.  And to see that, you only need to look at the rituals that remain.  Most of them seem anachronistic and out of place.  The rituals we've inherited don't belong to us; they belong to our ancestors.  If the symbols invoked by a ritual don't grab you, resonate with you, and engage your imagination, then none of it is working.

Think of all the rituals you can: weddings, funerals, graduations, baptisms, etc.  When was the last time one of these rituals was actually created or substantially updated and reimagined?  The rituals we have were not designed to speak to the lives we actually live today.

And finally, our rituals have been diluted and sapped of their potency.  Pick up a book and read about tribal rites of passage for boys in aboriginal Australia or Africa.  Every account will describe a brutal, harrowing experience for the initiate.  This is the intense psychological shock I spoke of earlier. The child aspect of the boy is symbolically destroyed, triggering him to actually experience some approximation of death before he is reborn as an adult man.

But our rituals don't have that intensity.  They're not sharp enough to do the job.  It's like giving a cancer patient a single treatment of chemo instead of the whole regime.  You spare him the suffering caused by the chemo therapy, but you haven't solved the problem.

So what we need are new rituals that speak to our lives and our sensibilities.  There is no longer a clear line between adolescence and adulthood.  First, we need a new name for that period from 18 to 25 or 30. Then we need a ritual when entering that period and another when leaving it for 'true' adulthood.  And we need rites that speak to those transitions specifically, not just a graduation or wedding, whose primary focus is elsewhere.

Also, we engage in serial monogamy in our culture.  This is a very different experience from our recent ancestors.  They didn't need rituals for entering into committed temporary relationships, nor for romantic separations, because people were expected to marry young and never divorce.  We do need rituals for those sorts of things, because that's the way that we live.

That's my thought for the day.  I know it's not as pragmatic as most of my posts.  There's not much that you or I can do to change our culture.  But change has to start somewhere, and I'm doing what I can to create an awareness of the problem.  And we can make our own little, personal rituals, which is better than nothing.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Too Much Blame; Not Enough Accountability

In our society, we constantly blame problems (rightly or wrongly) on this or that group or individual, but we never actually hold anyone accountable.

So what's the difference between blame and accountability?  And why does it matter?  

Blame comes from a place of anger and resentment.  When I blame someone for a problem, I'm approaching the situation with negativity.  I'm saying, this person caused the problem.  He or she deserves to be scorned and punished.  But scorn and punishment don't lead to growth, or understanding, or reconciliation, or resolution.  I think that holding someone accountable for their actions is quite different.  It comes from a place of optimism, a belief that the perpetrator can be redeemed and act better in the future.

But can't you do both at the same time?  I don't believe you can.  Blame is focused on the past, while accountability is forward-looking.  Holding a person accountable for their actions can and should be the beginning of a conversation.  The goal of blame is to end that conversation.  "It's his fault, so that's it. There's nothing more to say."

Let's think of an example.  Imagine someone murders a close friend of mine.  If I go about blaming him, I can tell myself and the world that this person is responsible, and he should suffer for his crime.  Well okay, but then what?  I'm stuck with this anger.  Blame inhibits forgiveness and compassion.  And as we've learned from all our spiritual traditions, as well as modern psychology, forgiveness is therapeutic, and I need to work towards forgiveness if I'm to find peace.

But maybe I want to hold onto my anger; The anger makes me feel superior; it validates my own righteousness.  If I see the world in terms of black and white, good and evil, then my anger and blame uphold my understanding of the universe. But what is gained, really?  And what is the cost?

And what about the murderer?  We throw him in prison.  And I'm not arguing against that.  But there's no functioning rehabilitation program, because we've decided as a culture that such a villain cannot be redeemed.  So then what happens?  If he is naturally inclined, he might choose to reflect on his situation, and maybe he'll learn and grow, and come out a better person.  But probably not. We certainly haven't done anything to encourage, incentivize, or support that progression.  Maybe he'll get out after twenty years and murder someone else.  Blaming him actually encourages recidivism in some subtle ways.  We isolate and alienate him, which makes him more likely to continue engaging in antisocial behavior generally.  And we label him a murderer, a monster, as if he has no other qualities.  We dehumanize him.  If he internalizes this, then he's almost certain to kill again.  If he doesn't, then he'll be resentful and angry at society in general, which may also lead to more violent behavior.

But if I choose to hold the murderer accountable, then I can have a conversation with him.  It will be a difficult conversation to be sure.  And what if I am not emotionally able to have that conversation?  Then a social worker can perform that role nearly as well in some ways, and probably even better in other ways.  But a true conversation requires two people who are genuinely engaged.  So what if he's not ready to have that dialog and take responsibility for his actions?  Then there really is nothing we can do.  But we can hope that maybe with some of time, eventually he will be ready.  He'll know the conversation is possible because it was already started.

What does it really mean to hold the killer accountable?  There's no way he can bring my friend back.  I don't really know the answer.  I don't think there's a generic prescription.  But it starts when he offers a genuine apology that expresses responsibility, understanding, compassion, and remorse.  And if nothing else, that alone should help to prevent future violence.  It reminds me of countless stories and anecdotes of victims expressing genuine joy and serenity at the validation and vindication granted by a genuine apology.

You might be thinking that anger has value, and positive qualities.  Anger can be the fuel to motivate change on a personal or even on a societal level.  This is a valid point.  But people who make this argument undervalue compassion and altruism as powerful motivating forces, and I believe more powerful than anger, although admittedly difficult to harness.  I think about all the time and money Americans donate whenever there is a catastrophic natural disaster.  I think about Gandhi, Mandela, and Martin Luther King Jr.  And I think about how social campaigns based on anger play out: even if successful.  Such movements reinforce animosity between the opposing sides, helping to perpetuate a culture of intolerance and negativity.

I realize what I'm saying is a bit idealistic.  The real world is messy, and everybody is flawed, clinging desperately to their egos and ideologies.  It takes strength and perspective to forgive,,and it takes great courage to have a human conversation with someone who you see as a villain.  And we can't force criminals to take responsibility for their actions.  But the alternative is to perpetuate the status quo:  a world where individuals and groups are locked into a vicious cycle of vilifying and dehumanizing each other, engendering yet more anger, hate, and violence.

I want to say one last thing on the subject. In the modern world, corporations produce dangerous products and cause catastrophic disasters.  They are constantly getting sued.  And settlements often involve a refusal to admit culpability.  First of all, a monetary settlement is not a measure of accountability, unless the offense was strictly financial in nature.  This is a big problem.  But more importantly, corporations cannot be held accountable.  A corporation is just an imaginary construct that we've created.  Corporations do not make decisions.  Every decision is made a person or a group of people.  And when we blame a corporation, and even when we try to hold a corporation accountable, we divert focus away from the person or people, within the corporation, who are actually responsible.  And the shareholders, who in many cases had nothing to do with the problem, are the ones who pay.

I can't change our culture by myself.  But change starts with one person.  And here's what I am doing to help.  I will try not blame and shame in my conversations. I will not post or even 'like' anything on social media that perpetuates our culture of blame, even if the post is empirically valid or supports my own perspectives, beliefs, or goals.  And I will apologize when I do something that harms another.  I humbly suggest that you make a similar commitment to yourself.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Learning vs. Growth

In my previous post, I explained my perspective that logic and science are not at odds with spirituality and religion.  The me from a few years ago would have responded, "Yeah, so what?"

"So what?" is an often under-appreciated question.  The answer is that we need both.  The way I see it, there is a two-dimensional graph.  By science and reason, one progresses along the x, or learning, axis.  And by action and experience, one progresses along the Y, or growth, axis.  Effective action is the goal, and it lies infinitely to the upper-right.

I've seen people who don't value reason and science rely too heavily on their own narrow and biased perceptions.  About once a week, I see one friend or another post some meme on Facebook along the lines of "All you need is love."  I mean no disrespect to fans of Jesus or the Beatles, but you need more than love.  Action born of love and pure intentions can be dangerous and destructive if it is not directed by knowledge and wisdom, hence the proverbial paving of the road to Hell.  With understanding, we can predict (with at least a little accuracy) the outcome of our actions.  Without it, you just try, and then hope for the best.

Think of a charity giving free food to some hungry villagers.  Short term everyone's happy, but the local economy gets thrown off because the farmers can't compete with free, and then they lose revenue they need for investing in next year's crop.  Or think of an overprotective mother who shelters her son.  She genuinely wants to protect the child from harm.  But when he grows up, he can't function as an adult in society.  He never learned how to manage risk and danger.  He was taught to fear strangers, so he misses opportunities to make new friends, and his social life and career stagnate.  Love is not enough!

But knowledge and wisdom alone are not enough either.  Every employer knows that even the best education is no substitute for real world experience.  But I had a tough time figuring out that the lesson applies to psychology as well.  Without a spiritual perspective and orientation, I found my own views could become myopic, and I lacked the tools for psychological growth.  I found certain concepts easy to comprehend in an abstract, academic way, but difficult to actually incorporate into my life.  No amount of reading and learning can make up for a lack of real growth and transformation.

Think of going to the gym as an example.  If I don't learn to exercise properly, I won't benefit as much as I could.  And with bad technique, I actually risk injuring myself, especially as I progress with heavier weights and more intense workouts.  This is why learning is necessary.  But no amount of learning will actually get me in shape.  If I want to increase my strength, flexibility, and endurance I need to show up and do the work.  This is why growth is necessary.  Effective action requires both dimensions.

Buddhist teachings handle this subject well.  The student is encouraged to read the teachings, but also to question them, to think critically, and to acquire knowledge through observation and empirical investigation.  In this way, one learns.  The student is also taught to practice meditation, generosity, and other healthy behaviours.  In this way, the student grows.  Both dimensions are valued.

For a long time, I mistook learning for growth.  Intellectuals often commit this error.  You can see evidence in the emotionally stunted nerd or genius stereotypes (think Good Will Hunting for example).  People like this may understand there's a problem, but they feel helpless.  Without life skills, they're always victims of circumstance.  On the other hand, I had one friend in particular, who I watched continually mistake growth for learning.  This too is common, and it's why a lot of very spiritually oriented people seem so divorced from reality.  They believe the spiritual insight gained through growth has some external, empirical truth to it.  People who make this mistake generally lack the self-awareness to even see there's a problem.  They are content to let emotion or faith guide their actions, indifferent to the damage they cause to others.  Even with a genuine sense of compassion, they'll rationalize the suffering they cause, saying, "It's God's will" or believing their victims will benefit from it in the end (whether true or not).  As obvious as the distinction between growth and learning may sound, it's quite easy to mistake the two.  I'm grateful that I've finally come to understand the difference and to value both.

So if you are lacking growth, as I was, I humbly suggest you begin to adopt a spiritual perspective, focus on improving your behavior and habits, and continually confront whatever makes you uncomfortable.  And if you are on the other end of the spectrum, please challenge your own beliefs and understandings with skepticism, and learn from people who think and act differently than you.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Mind vs. Spirit

Many people in our culture and throughout the world believe there is a war between religion/spirituality and science/logic.  

Intellectuals can often be dismissive of religion.  And whether it's conservative Christians on the right or new age idealists on the left, many religious people view intellectualism and academia with fear and distrust.  They belief that science attempts to disprove the existence of God.  And people like Richard Dawkins and Lawrence Krauss,contend that it already has.

I know there are a lot of people in the Western world who don't fully buy into the conclusions of either side.  But I haven't found many examples of the divide being bridged.  Maybe people are avoiding the cognitive dissonance of engaging the two sides simultaneously, or maybe those that have figured it out are getting stifled out of the conversation by the polarization.

I agree with all premises and arguments made by the intellectual side of the debate.  But despite those positions, I don't agree with the conclusions that God's nonexistence is proven (or imminently will be) nor that spiritual practice is a useless delusion.

You've probably read about primitive people who believed that thunder and lightning were evidence of angry gods.  Today, even staunch religious believers find this idea quaint because we know lightning is caused by static energy in the atmosphere.  Nonetheless even liberal religious people today continue to use the same process of reasoning.  For example, they assume that life could not have spontaneously arose without God, because they can't imagine another explanation.

And right there is the biggest piece of the problem.  Religious fundamentalists and hardcore atheists actually agree on one fundamental premise.  They share the belief that a (or even the) primary function of religion is to explain the phenomena of the world   I won't be the first to argue against the premise, but no one in the public debate is challenging it.

I was watching a Steven Hawking documentary where he implied that God does not exist, when he said that science has no need for God when explaining how the universe works.  But I realized, if you don't defer to religion for its explanatory function, then Hawking's statement can be accepted, without any offense to religion.  Christian theologians who understood science defended religion by explaining that the God they believe in is not the God of the gaps.

Scientists ask how things work, not why.  "Why" is about purpose and value, and that's the realm of religion.  Virtually everyone agrees that science should never even attempt to answer"why" questions.  So why is it so difficult to think that religion should stop answering "how" questions?  If it does stop, the conflict between religion and science pretty well evaporates.

What about Genesis?  Every religion I've heard of has an origin story that explains how the world began and how people came to be.  Does this perspective mean it's all bullocks?  Not necessarily.  As I've learned from Joseph Campbell, religious and mythic stories and texts were never meant to be interpreted literally.  He's not claiming that there was a time when literal interpretation didn't occur.  But I'm learning that myths can reveal things that are spiritually or psychologically valid, even if they are empirically false.

I've heard people of various religious backgrounds say, 'we are all children of God.'  Do they mean that God actually gave birth to each of us or that God literally inseminated our respective mothers?  The question is absurd.  We all intuitively understand that they are speaking of spiritual truth, not empirical truth.  Even a hardcore atheist who disputes the validity of the statement understands that it speaks to a non-empirical realm.

So I've learned to expand that perspective to all religious texts.  When reading religion or spirituality, I don't ask "does this seem empirically true?"  Rather I ask, "is it useful, or does it offer insight?"

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Unlearning and Learning

As I discussed in my last blog entry, growing is not the same as learning.  Even when the two are related, growth often has dimensions that are beyond the scope of thought and knowledge.  Many times, I've been told that spiritual growth requires unlearning.  I've certainly learned that there is truth to this.  Especially in the West, we are taught many ideas and perspectives that inhibit psychological and spiritual growth and prevent an integrated, holistic view of the human experience.

Despite the admitted dangers of overvaluing intellectualism, I've seen people take the idea of unlearning  too far, adopting fearful, dismissive, and hostile views of academic learning and rational thought.  They seem to believe that enlightenment is a regression to some “pure” state of the mind that exists before the polluting influence by earthly ideas.  The implication of this reasoning is that babies are enlightened beings, and perhaps so are animals. 

Babies are able to live more fully in the present moment than most adults are   Their perceptions are not distorted by problematic mental constructs.  And they may resonate to subtle empathetic energies (if you believe in that sort of thing) more easily than most adults who are not empaths.  Despite all this, I do not think babies are enlightened. 

The qualities of presence, unclouded perception, and interconnectedness may be necessary for (or perhaps symptomatic of) enlightenment.  But they are not sufficient.  Most of us have had experiences in our lives when we were fully present in the moment, and we did not achieve enlightenment.  Recently psychologists have been studying flow, but notice this is not the study of enlightenment.  Our perceptions are inevitably distorted by our knowledge, beliefs, and opinions. But these mental objects give meaning and context to our perceptions.  For example if you listen to someone speak your native language, you will have a difficult time focusing on the aural qualities of the syllables and sibilances of the speech.  Your mind will be occupied by attaching meaning to the words and vocal inflections.  If however, you listen to someone speaking an unfamiliar tongue, you will find it easy to focus on the subtle qualities of the vocal sound, but you'll have little understanding of the content of the speech.  Without knowledge, we don't gain much from our perceptions.  Unfortunate as it may be, the informative and distorting aspects of knowledge on perception are two sides to the same proverbial coin.

If learning was not necessary for balanced spiritual practice, then there would be no need for the great spiritual teachers.  Lao Tzu and Gautama Buddha stated that their teachings are only a framework for spirituality, acknowledging that transformation, growth, and experience cannot be taught.  But they apparently believed that teaching the framework was worth their time and effort.

Our perceptions, beliefs, and knowledge are all interdependent on each other, so to some extent, this whole thing might be a bit academic.  But I think it's important to respect the place of intellectual activity in a holistic spiritual life.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

There Is No Try

“Do.  Or do not.  

There is no try.” 

-George Lucas

Yoda's teaching is simple, beautiful, and brilliant, but frustratingly elusive.  I've been given the same advice many times by my more spiritually oriented friends.  What does the this lesson really mean for someone who is stuck trying?

How do I stop trying, and start doing?  There is not much of a logical answer to be found.  The real answer lies beyond the realm of intellect and reason.  As I've tried to overcome depression, I've continuously asked myself and others this question.  And the lack of any coherent answer from anywhere just added to my sense of despair.  I just kept trying.  And then I tried even harder.

But recently, things have begun to change.  I think I am no longer trying, but doing.  Even so, I cannot really tell you the difference between the two.  It’s mostly just a feeling, and a subtle one even at that.  For what little I can say, part of doing is a shift to process orientation.  And instead of tries or attempts, actions can be viewed as practice.  Part of doing is thinking "when I succeed" rather than "if I succeed."  But these are peripheral things.  Most of doing is much less tangible.

Another part is letting go – letting go of the goal, letting go of the self, and even letting go of the action.  It’s like giving up, but it’s also totally different.  And there is where we leave the realm of reason.  To put it into words, into logic, even into thoughts is folly.  I can’t even begin to understand it myself, let alone explain it to you.

For one inclined towards intellectualism as I am, it can be difficult to accept the absolute limits of logic.  But those limits are clear to me, as I continue to run up against them in my journey of spiritual growth.

We cannot understand beauty, only behold it.  We cannot understand how to exist, even though we do it without effort.  There is no algorithm for producing meaning and significance.

As a seeker of knowledge and wisdom, I wish I understood the difference between trying and doing.  And I wish I could share the secret with you.  It's a bit discouraging.  But based on my experience, there is little to know.  As such, I fear I have not really learned anything.  But growth is different than learning.  And I am sure that I've grown.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Process Orientation

In my recent readings including Ellen Langer's Mindfulness, I've come across the concept of process orientation a few times.  This seems to be one ingredient to sustainable happiness.

Most of us have a goal orientation in our perspectives and thoughts.  When I was a child, I would ask, “Why do I have to go to school?”  My parents would respond, “So you can graduate and get a job.”  But why do I need a job?  I need a job so that I can pay bills and support myself.  With this line of thinking, every action is done in order to achieve something else.  Nothing is done for its own merits.

Process orientation is training your mind to focus on the process at hand, rather than the goal it will achieve.  It's a perspective, or even a belief, that whatever action you are performing, the action has merit in itself.  The idea is to find meaning and joy in the performance rather than (or at least in addition to) the result.  Process orientation does not necessarily mean abandoning goals, but more a shift in focus.  It means placing more importance on an action than its outcome.  And failure, which is always defined by a goal, is interpreted as meritorious action, as part of a process, and as an opportunity for learning.

Process orientation acknowledges that there is no such thing as perfection.  It is an orientation towards learning, growth, and progress, instead of achievement, accomplishment, and success.

Process orientation is a meditation.  It is a practice of mindfulness, and it requires presence in the moment.  It is engagement in life. 

After learning about process orientation, I could see the benefits, but it seemed like a daunting task to train my mind in this new perspective.  So I kept the thought in back of my mind, but I didn't do a lot with it.

A few months later, I was having a conversation on an online dating site with a woman who told me it’s important that her partner have ambition.  I responded that I don’t aspire to wealth or prestige.  My ambitions are to be happy, to be educated, to be wise, to be a good friend, to live a life of integrity, and to have a positive impact on the world and people around me.  But these are not goals, and by extension maybe not ambitions.  Happiness, wisdom, and integrity have no final end points.  I’ll never say, “I can stop learning now, since I've already accomplished my goal of being educated.”

And I immediately realized that this is process orientation!  Already I've been making that shift in my mind.  It's not complete, but I find comfort and a sense of accomplishment that I am making progress.


Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Who Am I? Part II - Non-Self

To recap my previous post, I tried to answer the question “Who am I?” without referring to my physical form, my personality, my beliefs, my memories, or anything else that is an attribute of or derived from my mind or body.  I could answer ‘I am consciousness’, or ‘I am a child of God’, or ‘I am an immortal soul connected to the Source’, or something similar.  But these answers aren't very descriptive.

Maybe the question, “Who am I?” is not a very good question to ask.  Maybe there is something wrong with the question.  Underlying it are some assumptions.  First of all, the question assumes that the act of being (the singular “am”) is performed individually and separately from others.  Secondly, there is the assumption that the self (or  “I”)  has a significant distinction from other people, or from the universe as a whole.  I think you could debate the merits and faults of these assumptions endlessly.  The third assumption is personhood identity.  Why do we ask “who” rather than “what”?  Let me reword the question to make deconstruction easier.  I am whom?  The "whom" is a question of identity.  But from a soul-centered perspective, identity is something one has, not something on is.  So the question doesn't even make sense.  I instead could ask “I have whom?”  Disregarding how odd the question sounds, it definitely seems less important than the question I began with.

One goal of Buddhist practice is to understand anatta (or non-self).  The self, or the ego, is an impermanent form that we create and recreate continually.  And as marketing professionals can tell you, identity is the strongest attachment that we have.

Hindu, Buddhist, and Taoist teachings describe the concept of oneness.  Thich Nhat Hanh put it simply, “We are here to awaken from our illusion of separateness.”  And the doctrine of oneness is more central to Tao and Hindu worldviews than to Buddhism. 

Identity, whether individual or collective, only serves to separate us.  The concept of identity creates a world of ‘us and them’.  This dualistic thinking is one step on a path to arrogance, egocentrism, ethnocentrism, dehumanization,  domination, oppression, conflict, and war.  Some people might point out that the perspective of ‘us and them’ and a sense of healthy competition can be a great tool for motivation.  And they’re probably right.  But what is the cost?  Is there a way to fuel motivation that is less harmful?

I am in the process of trying to disidentify with the ego.  It is extremely difficult, especially for people like me, who grew up in a particularly individualistic and competitive culture.  I have a lot of progress yet to make.  But I believe the benefit for myself and for those around me is worth the effort.

In this post, I've glossed over some very deep concepts in a very short essay.  It took me about two years of learning to be able to write this post and the previous one.  So I don't expect you to agree with or grasp what I've related.  But if you're interested, I encourage you to learn more.  Pick up some books, whether spiritual or psychological that can help you dig deeper into concepts of oneness, non-self, and disidentification with ego.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy

Who Am I? Part I - Questions of Identity

All of the major religions teach that a person's soul lives on after death.  As a child, I was taught that my spirit would ascend to Heaven, while my body decayed on Earth.  Now I practice Buddhism, which teaches of rebirth.  Regardless of tradition, thinking critically about the soul leads to the same paradox.  All that I know about myself is contained in my brain, but I am also my soul, completely separate and independent from my brain.

If I have a soul or spirit, what is it exactly?  What is its nature?  Can the soul feel and experience things, and if so how?  Does the soul have any memories or knowledge, and if so, how does it store, propagate, and access that information?  Can the soul have thoughts, and if so how?  Can the soul communicate its thoughts and experiences to the mind?  If it can (and does), what is the mechanism, and how can I distinguish between a thought that originates in the soul and one that is of the mind?  If it cannot, then what is its relation to the mind (and to the self that I know)?  What defines and distinguishes my soul from other souls? 

There is one question I've been pondering for the past few years, which I think underlies these others, to some extent.  How does the soul relate to identity?  To put it more directly, if I identify myself as my soul, rather than as my mind and body, then who am I?

My personality, all of my likes and dislikes, my beliefs, my inclinations, and all that I've learned are nothing but neural connections in my brain.  Every thought, every emotion, and every memory exists only in my brain, nowhere else.  Every sensation and experience that I will ever have is filtered through my brain at multiple layers.  Nothing is direct and raw.  My entire identity and everything that I know about myself will be gone the moment I die, if not before.  If I suffer a brain injury, I could become an entirely different person, a different ‘me’.  Just think about Phineas Gage, or think about how long-term lead poisoning can make passive people turn violent.  I’m assuming that brain injuries don’t affect the soul.  But they can clearly affect everything that we define as identity.  By inverse reasoning, we can conclude that the soul plays little if any role in our personality and our behavior. 

So with this understanding, I’ll rephrase a previous question: If my soul plays little or no role in my identity, then how can it possibly be accurate or useful to refer to my soul as me?  From this perspective, the soul that lives on after death cannot be identified as me any more than some cancer cells in a petri dish can be identified as the person, Henrietta Lacks.  My inability to answer this question is a primary reason why I went many years without engaging in spiritual thinking or practice.

Western religions have difficulty with this too.  You can't really engage with this question while believing that Heaven and Hell are anything more than metaphors.  This is a core reason why conflict erupts between religious and non-religious people in the Christian and Muslim parts of the world.

In the East however, Hindu, Buddhist, and Taoist philosophies do engage with the question.  They start by inverting the perspective.  As I've phrased it thus far, the body and mind is what I am, and the soul is something within me – something that I have.  Eastern traditions, as I've been learning, teach us to shift our point of view.  I am the soul.  The body and mind are things that I have.  This perspective redefines the entire concept of identity.  Identity is not who I am, it is only a conceptual thing which I possess.  This new perspective is difficult and dangerous.  By dangerous, I mean that a lot of people attempt to see things this way and speak as if they do, but have not truly made the conceptual shift and don't understand the implications.  When they talk about the soul, they either mean identity, or they place the baggage of identity onto the soul.

I asked, "who am I?"  And after deeply exploring the question, I haven't actually answered it. I've only established that from this new perspective, it cannot be accurately answered by the concept of identity.  I am not my personality, beliefs, memories, knowledge, and experiences.  But I still don't know who I am.

I'll be following this post up with a Part II in the relatively near future.  But take some time to think on this first.  For most of us, myself included, it's hard to think of a soul in concrete terms.  And seemingly familiar words like self and identity become slippery and elusive as they're redefined based on shifting perspectives.  I'd imagine this discussion might be easier in some Eastern tongues; English doesn't really have vocabulary or syntax to explain what I'm trying to express.

Thank you for reading.  Use the comment tool to post any thoughts or questions.  And please share my blog with others who might find value in it.  May you be well and happy.

-Andy