Artifacts of my non-heretical heresy

My wife found some note cards when she was cleaning out a drawer. "Here," she said, handing them to me. "They're yours." No doubt. My handwriting is distinctive, in the sense of unreadable. But I can decipher my own scribblings. Most of the time, at least. (I've been known to hand a store clerk my grocery list and ask, "Can you tell me what I wrote down here?") I thumbed through the cards and realized what they were: an initial attempt to organize themes for the talks that I used to give regularly at meetings of Radha Soami Satsang Beas…

Having a revival by yourself

I used to go to an Indian mystic meditation group's version of "church" every Sunday to have my faith renewed. Well, sort of. Actually, what I enjoyed the most was getting together with friends after the service (a.k.a. satsang) was over. We'd go out for coffee and talk about all sorts of stuff, including how unsure we were about what we supposedly believed in. Now on Sundays I skip the service and head right for the coffee klatsch. But some days I still have a lingering longing for a revival. Problem is, I don't know what I'm trying to bring…

Blast the religious loonies into oblivion

Passion. Religious believers consider that they're the only ones with it. For example, they have "The Passion of the Christ." It fills Christians with energy, conviction, determination, zeal. Well, there's also "The Passion of Reality." It fills me with exactly the same feelings. Just as fundamentalists are driven to rid the world of Satanic influences (including pagans like me), when I come across nonsensical dogmatic blathering my reality-loving blood begins to boil. I get fired up to defend the ramparts of truth against the neo-barbarian hordes who want to substitute superstition for science (and a scientifically founded spirituality). This morning,…

Death is a marvelous backdrop for life

First, kudos to Edward for his comment on my "Finding Meaning in Meaninglessness" post. Like follow kudo'er Adam, I love the line, I have found that my life is none of my business. A comment excerpt: There is no reason to be sure of anything. My certainty changes nothing of how I engage the world. Even being sure that I know nothing actually impedes my effective participation. I have found that my life is none of my business. I get that there are (at least) two things going on: what I think is happening; and what is happening. These coincide…

Finding meaning in meaninglessness

I was a true believing existentialist my sophomore year in college. I devoured Sartre, Camus, all those guys who I could picture sitting in a Parisian coffee house, smoking unfiltered cigarettes, sipping thick expresso, and waving their hands animatedly as they agreed, in so many ways, that Life, it is so totally fucked! (in a French accent and with more of a literary twist to the sentiment, naturally). That's just how I felt. So I got a tremendous amount of meaning out of all the meaninglessness that I absorbed from existentialist writings. That's what held me together through some pretty…

Diving off the dock of fundamentalism

Why not jump all the way in? The water of openness is so inviting. Non-dogmatic, fresh, cleansing. Why continue to just dangle feet over the dock of fundamentalism instead of leaping free and taking the plunge? Because unexamined assumptions hold us back. We non-believers actually believe in more than we're aware of. Decrying religious absolutism, we've got some absolutes of our own enshrined in our psyches. This is one of the disconcerting (but in a pleasing way, like when you're shoved off a place you didn't really want to be at) messages I've gotten from Robert Burton's "On Being Certain,"…

Knowing that you know: impossible

It's strange, but the most familiar sensation we have also is the most mysterious: knowing. I know this. And yet, I don't. Just like everything else that I know. Or you know. Or anybody knows. We don't know how we know. Which means we can't trust what we know – not with 100% certainty. So this should squash fundamentalism of every variety. Except…people can't control their knowing. Reason, facts, information, persuasion: our sense of knowing isn't influenced by any of that. Our knowing can't be trusted. Yet it's what we rely upon at every moment. Go figure. (But you can't,…

Benefits of blogging and bitching

Yesterday I got an email from a Church of the Churchless visitor who offered me some advice: It seems to me like you spend more time writing on this blogging thing than is healthy for anybody to do….We all get disillusioned with something, but we can move on or we can waste our time bitching about our disillusionment in cyberspace all day. Well, I beg to differ. I'm not in cyberspace all day. Though when our well pump stopped working this afternoon, and I had to find a way to get it fixed at the start of the Memorial Day…

Meditation – an ever present “church”

I meditated before I became a true believer. I meditated all during my faith-filled years. And I continue to meditate now that I'm in my churchless phase. For me, meditation is an opportunity to open myself up to…whatever. The motto of the X-Files (American TV show) was "The truth is out there." Also, in here: consciousness. Where you don't need anyone else – no preacher, guru, rabbi, priest – to show you the way. Nor do you need to go some place – a church, temple, mosque – to be on the way. Which might well be no way. I…

Struggling to label my belief in unbelief

Sometimes silence says more than words. Recently an old friend asked me, "Do you still consider yourself to be a satsangi?" I stared into the depths of my Starbucks latte. I started to speak, then closed my lips. The question spiraled deeper into my psyche. I waited to see if it'd hit bottom. Satsangi – I knew what my friend meant by the word. An initiated member of Radha Soami Satsang Beas, a mystic-religious group with headquarters in India and branches around the world. But the term is used much more broadly. Wikipedia associates it with another belief system. And…

Believe! In witticisms about belief.

I learn a lot in the bathroom, thanks largely to Funny Times – which habitually resides in a drawer within convenient reach of my white pondering place. The May issue features quotes about belief in the Curmudgeon column (using content from "The Big Curmudgeon"). I liked these quotations, because I believe them. The others obviously are wrong, so I left them out. --------------------------- The fact that a believer is happier than a skeptic is no more to the point than the fact that a drunken man is happier than a sober one. – George Bernard Shaw Men become civilized, not…

Morality thrives without belief in immortality

Why would believing in life after death make us act more morally? Religions argue that if people didn't anticipate some sort of afterlife – the nature of which depends on behavior in this life – there'd be little motivation to do the right thing here on Earth. To my mind, there's an even better argument in the other direction: a belief in immortality creates an atmosphere where life as it is here and now is disrespected, disparaged, and downplayed. That's immoral. A plane crashes. There's a disaster in a coal mine. A stray bomb kills innocent children. Religious believers say…

Proof of life after death? Not yet.

If truth can't be found on Google, it must not exist. That's my cyberspace-centric view of reality. So here's the result of my hour or so of Googling the question: is there persuasive scientific evidence of life after death? Short answer: no. As some commenters (one of whom was me) on my "Life is a mystery. Afterlife, ditto" post observed, if such evidence existed, it'd be trumpeted to the heavens – plus the front pages. Now, quite a few people believe that scientists and the media are censoring evidence of life after death. Such as this guy. There are two…

Life is a mystery. Afterlife, ditto.

I like how Zen talks about the need for a "great ball of doubt." It seems like I should have enjoyed a satori by now, my doubt is so balled up. Some days more than others. This was a good doubting day. I just had an interview with my Zen master, who, conveniently, is myself (makes it easy to get appointments). He reviewed the enigmatic koans that life presented me on this Sunday, along with my responses. I think he was pleased. But I can't say for sure. That doubt thing, you know. Sundays usually follow a fairly predictable routine…

Being absolutely right, you’re wrong

You can't have "right" without "wrong." So if what you say is absolutely 100% certain, no doubt about it – that can't be true. The Taoists figured this out a long time ago. Yin requires yang. Up needs down. Truth depends on falsity. Much more recently, Karl Popper made falsifiability the cornerstone of what distinguishes a scientific theory. I echoed his ideas in "If a religion can't be wrong, it surely is." I keep coming back to this notion, because both intuitively and logically it appeals to me. Sure, something may be real, yet improvable or indescribable. Existence, for example.…

I know I’m right about uncertainty

Ooh! It feels so good to have my view of life confirmed. Today someone sent me a link to "On Being Certain," which talks about a book with the same name by Robert Burton, M.D. It's subtitle is believing you are right even when you're not. Nice! Not that it applies to me. Because I know I'm right about uncertainty. Why, I've read marvelous blog posts about this subject, each of which, I'm pleased to say, was written by me (see here, here, here, and here). And now I learn from a description of Burton's book that science shows I've…

Start with mystery closest to home

I've been enjoying recent Church of the Churchless comment conversations, here, here, and here (plus a few other post places). In this regard, I want to mention that I keep on telling TypePad, which hosts this blog, that they need to improve their comment features. It bugs me that only the ten most recent comments are shown on the left sidebar, and that it isn't possible for visitors to search through previous comments (I can, but others can't). TypePad assures me that they'll get around to this. Someday. Guess I need to have faith. Which brings me to a thought…

Critics are our best spiritual friends

The worst thing about belief? In one way or another, it's always unbelievable. The best thing about belief? When the unbelievable is stripped away, you're likely to be pointed toward truth. So strippers – no, not that kind (sadly) – are all-important on a spiritual journey. Without them, religious or other sorts of dogma are accepted uncritically, leaving us wandering in a maze where every path leads anywhere you believe it will. The Indian guru I began to follow in 1971, Charan Singh, was fond of saying: "Critics are our best friends." His disciples would nod, seemingly taking the words…