The Non-dualogues share the conversations between slumberfogey and the pilgrim, in slumberfogey’s flat in London. Occasionally, the pilgrim brings friends, who join in the discussion.
slumberfogey: Pilgrim! Hello. It's been a while.
pilgrim: Hi slumberfogey. I was afraid you wouldn't remember me. I've had a lot going on, so I haven't been able to visit. But I have managed to do some of my homework.
s: Looking for boundaries in your experience?
p: Yep, but I never really found any. Was I supposed to?
s: You know what? I'd like to put boundaries aside this week and talk about freedom.
p: Okay, man. It's a free country. (Pun intended.)
s: Readers are going to think my old man humour is contagious. Now, remind me who you are. I need to see whether we need to backtrack at all after our break.
p: I don't think we do! I am the experiencer of my experience. I'm that which knows, is aware of, what is happening: all the thoughts, perceptions and ideas that flow constantly through my life.
s: Excellent! And when we do pick back up on boundaries, we'll investigate the nature of the relationship between your experience (aka what is happening) and you (the experiencer of what is happening). We'll look for the boundary between them.
But first, there's a fair bit that follows naturally from your re-orientation of who you are, and I'd like us to investigate those implications. They are revolutionary.
p: Sounds great. Here's your tea. So, what are the 'so whats' of my discovery that what I am is the experiencer of what is happening?
s: First, let's adopt a bit of shorthand. "The experiencer of what is happening" is a bit of a mouthful, so let's say that you are the Witness, that is, the witness of your experience.
p: Okay. I'm the Witness. What next?
s: Summarise what you know about yourself, about the Witness.
p: Uh-oh. Is this one of those moments when I feel really stupid while you quiz me?
s: You can't be stupid. That's one of the 'so whats.' Anyway, start with what you know the Witness is not.
p: Okay, it's not a thought, a perception or a sensation, or any combination of them.
s: Why do you say that?
p: Because those are all objects. I (the Witness) am not an object at all. I am pure subjectivity. That's why when I really, carefully search for myself, I come up empty. Only objects can be 'seen.' Subjectivity can't.
s: Spot on, PIlgrim! Now let's look at the radical nature of the freedom that the Witness's pure subjectivity implies for you.
p: Okay. Let's.
p: Oh. So you want me to pick it up? Um. Okay, yeah. Radical freedom. Yeah. It makes me feel like I'm... um... really free(?).
s: Sounds like some hints are in order. If we, for the purposes of today's discussion, split life into two halves - what is happening on the one hand and the Witness that experiences it on the other - what verbs 'live' in each half? Starting with the Witness 'half,' what verbs can the Witness be the subject of?
p: Well, the Witness can witness, which is basically to observe or to experience. Breaking that down, I guess the witness can see, hear, smell, feel, taste, think, remember. How am I doing?
s: Great, as always. But I think you might have overshot things a bit, while simultaneously leaving one huge one out. To be clear about what sits where, it's probably most helpful to think of seeing as 'experiencing a visual object,' hearing as 'experiencing an auditory object,' etc. Do you see what I mean?
p: I don't know why that's more helpful, but I'm fine with boiling them down to experience. So does that mean that I've basically identified one Witness verb - experiencing - and I'm missing one other big one? I can't think of what else it could be.
s: That's right. You've nailed the experiencing aspect of the Witness. The second is that it can be. It is. See what I mean?
p: Not really, I thought you said the Witness isn't any object that can be seen or experienced. But I guess it must exist if it is what I am.
s: There is a subtle distinction between the verbs to exist and to be, which we won't dive into now, but yes, since the Witness is what you are, it is. It can be the subject of the verb 'to be.' So, the Witness can experience and it can be. It's important to see that all other verbs are contained in the flow, the existence of what is happening - the other half of the equation. The Witness does not 'do' any of those other things.
p: I'm only vaguely with you, slumberfogey. That's certainly not the way I feel. I mean, if I'm the Witness, I certainly feel like I eat, think, walk, decide, intend, regret and a million other activities.
s: I don't disagree at all that it feels that way. I also don't expect you to just take my words at face value. But in the coming weeks, re-visit them and have them in mind as you go about life. Don't forget how comprehensive What Is Happening is. It is literally everything that occurs. You, as the Witness experience What Is Happening. The tastes, textures and other sensations of eating, along with the memories it evokes and the other thoughts that arise with it, including the subtle, underlying feeling that you are a person, a body-mind, are all part of the flow of What Is Happening. You, as the Witness, experience them.
p: I'll keep it in mind and see what my experience tells me.
s: I can't ask for anything more! So, you, as the Witness don't carry out any activities other than being and experiencing. How about as an object? What verbs can the Witness be an object of? If a boy kicks a can, then the can is the object of the verb 'to kick.' How about the Witness?
p: Well, we've already said that it's not an object at all. If that's right (and I still need to play around with this) then it's not the object of any verb. In your example, the kicking happens to the can, but in the grand scheme, What Is Happening doesn't happen to the Witness. Is that right? And yet, the Witness experiences it, so doesn't that mean What Is Happening happens to the Witness after all?
s: You'll need to experiment with it, but what I've found is that What Is Happening doesn't happen to the Witness but arises to the Witness's awareness. (Actually, the Witness IS awareness, but we'll leave that aside for now. Even this 'arising to' will update as we look at the relationship between the Witness and What Is Happening, as your understanding deepens.) So, I've asserted, and it's up to you to experiment and test, that the Witness is neither the subject (the 'doer') nor the object (the 'recipient') of any activity, of anything that is happening, of What Is Happening.
p: Almost like someone watching a film or a play.
s: Very well put! Or someone dreaming. That's the Witness, and that is you. Now, what do you think all of this might have to do with freedom?
p: Oh, that's right! You said freedom was our topic for today. I'm not sure, to be honest. That the Witness is free from being the subject or the object of anything that is happening?
s: Yes! Remember when I loosely substituted 'doer' for subject a minute ago? And 'recipient' for object? What things come with being the doer and recipient, respectively?
p: The doer is responsible, and the recipient bears consequences. Are you saying that the Witness is, that I am, free of responsibility and consequence? That sounds like a proposition that would - if everyone believed it - undermine morality, justice and social order, for a start!
s: Only if it's misunderstood. We're stating things quite bluntly at the moment. It's very important to remember that this freedom applies to you AS THE WITNESS, not to 'you' as a person, a body-mind. You are NOT a body-mind. The body-mind is a fragment of What Is Happening. It is on that side of the equation that conditions, limits and unfolding process exist. The Witness, that which you are, is free of all that. But... when What Is Happening includes the understanding that the Witness is the only experiencer and that the Witness is free from all limits, then the person, the body-mind, as a fragment of What Is Happening will feel free. The freedom that will emerge is freedom from fear - fearlessness. Our picture of freedom will evolve further as we consider the relationship between the Witness and What Is Happening, also as we consider other minds.
p: I don't think I really get that. I find it hard to keep from involuntarily flipping back to thinking of 'I' as the person rather than as the Witness. I lose track of which the freedom applies to.
s: That's completely understandable. We'll revisit this together many times, and in the meantime, you'll experiment with it in your own experience. For now, our pointer is that you are the Witness and that the Witness is free of limit. Realising that will mean that the person, pilgrim, the body-mind, will include less and less fear. That is the understanding's effect within What Is Happening. In the meantime, as you experiment, it may be interesting for you to notice the limits, the conditioning that the pilgrim, as a person, is subject to.
p: Phew. My head is spinning more than from any other visit. You're right, that's a revolutionary take on freedom. I have the feeling we'll need to kick it around more. See you next time, slumberfogey.
Phil Grimm's Progress, my humble attempt to re-orient the western world-view, is out.
As I mentioned in a recent post, PGP is my take at using fiction to address ideas I've only encountered in non-fiction. How well that works is for you to decide.
My guess is that societal division and polarisation move in cycles, like most everything else. But given my life hasn't been long enough to see whole cycles, today is about as divided and defensive a time as I've come across.
PGP is, in one way, essentially about how we get trapped in stories that close our minds, how we take (often unknowingly) assumptions and all that derives from them as certainties.
Of course, I have a certain take on the current world situation, and I guess that can't help but come across in the book. Some of you think similarly, others very differently. But the main point of the book, delivered in mythical form, is that we've got to put down our shields of certainty to listen to and truly consider what one another think and feel. Else we're just on auto-pilot, aping words and enraged gestures we've taken from someone else, isolating and thereby losing ourselves.
You can buy Phil Grimm's Progress at most of your favourite online book retailers. Leave a rating or review (especially if you like it!).
The Non-dualogues share the conversations between slumberfogey and the pilgrim, in slumberfogey’s flat in London. Sometimes, the pilgrim brings friends, who join in the discussion.
slumberfogey: Pilgrim! At last. You're late!
pilgrim: Isn't 11am a good time for you?
s: No, I mean two months late. My biscuits ran out seven weeks ago.
p: slumberfogey, I told you I'd be away for two months. I've been on a building project in Central America.
s: Oh, I remember now. Still, no biscuits.
p: I've got biscuits with me. Shall I put on the tea? What are we discussing today?
s: Who are you?
p: You recognise me, don't you? I'm Gary, but you always call me pilgrim.
s: So "Gary" is your name or "pilgrim" labels you, but is either who you are?
p: Oh, I get it. We're diving straight in, then. So I'll skip the bits covering where I'm from, what I do for money, what party I vote for, my ethnicity and my religion, because knowing you, you're looking for something different...
s: So, you are...?
p: Well, just a bloke. A person. A human. (An Arsenal fan.)
s: Don't sell yourself short. You're not "just" anything. But let's take "person." Did you say you had biscuits?
p: Yes! I'm bringing them out with the tea. Okay, so yeah, I'm a person.
s: And when you say you're a person, you mean you are... what? What is a person?
p: An individual.
s: Interesting. Let's remember that word and come back to it. So an individual what? And don't say "person," because we don't want to go in circles. You've already said a person is an individual.
p: An individual body, I guess.
s: Anything special about the body? Would a cadaver count?
p: No. A living body.
s: Ah. So you are a living body. How are you aware you're living?
p: Being alive is obvious. I'm moving around and stuff.
s: To pick up on the line of questioning I'm taking you on, pause for a moment and hearken back to our discussion last time about "what is happening." Although two months have passed, I hope we don't need to replay the whole discovery.
*** Intermission ***
p: Right, so I'll try to keep my answers to what I can be certain of. My direct experience.
s: Excellent! So, according to your direct experience, what is the body?
p: Well. I see it when I look at my hands, chest, legs or feet. I see my face's reflection in the mirror. So an aspect of the body is images I experience.
s: Great. What else?
p: I feel it all the time. My hand can touch my belly or slap my thigh. I feel my teeth chatter. My stomach rumbles. (I hear that as well.) My heart beats. I sense my limbs' position. Body movement, warmth, cold, hunger. So I guess the body is also a bundle of sounds and sensations.
s: Super. Anything else?
p: I smell my breath, too. I taste my lip bleeding or sweat rolling into my mouth. I guess the body is a collection of the same types of perception that come from "out in the world" plus the internal sensations.
s: Interesting. "Internal." Internal to what?
p: Internal to my body.
s: But you say - as far as you can tell from your direct experience - your body is those things. So some of those things can't be "internal" to the body. That's saying bits of the body are internal to itself, while other bits aren't.
p: I'm not used to examining the body this way, so I get tied up in how to express myself.
s: You're doing great. Just consider more carefully within what those perceptions and "internal" sensations rest.
p: Wait! I've got it! They sit in my mind. I am my mind!
s: So you are not your body but your mind?
p: Well, perhaps it's not so simple, since the mind is dependent on the body.
s: How so?
p: The mind depends on the brain, which is part of the body.
s: How does your direct experience tell you this?
s: How do you experience your mind's dependence on the brain?
p: I guess I don't. I base it on what others say and what I've read.
s: Okay. I'm not saying it's wrong. The mind may be dependent on the body, but let's stick with the things you can know, from your direct experience.
p: Yeah. So I'm sticking with saying I am my mind.
s: Do you, as a mind, include or contain anything else beyond the perceptions and sensations of the body?
p: Ah! Well, I have millions of ideas, memories, emotions, expectations, wishes and judgements in my mind. I guess my will sits in the same place.
s: Yes. Lot's more stuff, huh? When you say those things sit in the same place, what is that place?
p: My mind.
s: But if you are the mind, what is the "My" bit? If you are the mind, then saying "My mind" is equivalent to saying "My me."
p: But I'm distinguishing my mind from other minds.
s: What is your direct experience of other minds?
p: Ah, I get you. My experience is only through sights, sounds and other perceptions, which we've covered. I don't experience other minds. So are you saying they don't exist?
s: Well, that would be hard for me to say, since slumberfogey is one of them! No, they may well exist, but let's stick with what you can be sure of from your direct experience. We're taking empiricism seriously.
p: Okay, so I'll get rid of the "my." All those forms of thought and all perceptions of the body, plus all body sensations sit in me.
s: You say the perceptions of the body sit in you. Do the perceptions of the rest of the world (the images of the surrounding room, the sound of passing traffic, etc.) sit somewhere else?
p: No. Same place.
s: So all perceptions, sensations and thoughts sit within you, yes? So who or what are you?
p: I am the mind.
s: What is the mind?
p: I'm getting tired. I dunno. The container of those things?
s: Seeing things in a whole new way can be taxing. Those "things," those perceptions, sensations and thoughts. Do you remember how we rolled them up in our last meeting?
p: Oh yeah. I worked out (with your help) that I don't ever experience those different categories. They all come in bundled, undivided experience.
s: Exactly! And my little term for undivided experience is "What Is Happening." So, who or what are you?
p: If the mind is What Is Happening and I am my mind, I guess I am What Is Happening. Right?
s: You sound uncertain. How can you be certain What Is Happening is happening?
p: Arrrrrggggggghhhhhhh! This is exhausting. I always feel stupid when you do this.
s: Sorry. Maybe The Trial of Socrates is inaccurate. Perhaps his students killed him out of frustration.
p: What? What are you on about?
s: A classical allusion, young man. You guys have lost touch with your roots. Not enough time. Back to my question...
p: How do I know What Is Happening is happening? Because I'm experiencing it! It is my direct experience.
s: Right. You're not an inert container of those aspects of experience, of What Is Happening. You are its experiencer. So who are you?
p: I am the experiencer of What Is Happening.
s: Perfect! And What Is Happening is the flow of experience arising to awareness and receding to make way for the continuing flow "behind."
p: So I'm the experiencer, but I don't know what the experiencer is. I'm not the body - I experience the sensations and perceptions making up my direct experience of the body. Likewise, I'm not the mind - I experience the thoughts that are my direct experience of it. And, I'm not the external environment - I experience the perceptions composing my direct experience of the external world. So what am I?
s: That's what I asked you! And you've peeled away a lot of confusion. You've worked out that you are no thing (nothing). The things are aspects of What Is Happening. You are the experiencer of the things. If you still seek yourself as an object, as a thing, you'll come up empty. You - the experiencer - are not a thing.
p: I'm not sure how thrilled I am to be nothing. So my school teachers and ex-girlfriends were right.
s: Maybe it's not so bad. You used to believe you were a thing - a body or a mind or their union. You now see you are not a thing. Perhaps a further step awaits discovery. Are you willing to take on some homework?
s: Okay. Between now and when we next meet, look for boundaries.
s: I'd like you to investigate different boundaries on several "levels." I'll email this to you, but hear me out.
What would this imply for what you are???
Let's discuss what you find.
Until next week, pilgrim.
Phil Grimm's Progress is off for its final edit, with Phil Owens. Unless I hit unforeseen snags, I'll publish it - in ebook form - by the end of April. We'll see about print.
It started last summer, a week after returning from a camper van trip with J to Holland and Denmark. I often have wakeful periods in the middle of the night. Those periods began to fill with ideas for a story - in mythic form. I'd recently re-read Parzival and the Stone from Heaven, and I pictured a spiritual seeker with little self-knowledge, on a quest to discover himself.
I'd read lots of nonfiction about Taoism, Buddhism, Advaita Vedanta and non-dualism more generally, but I'd never come across a modern allegorical approach. In my less humble moments, I imagined penning a cross between Parzival, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, The Tao of Pooh and Sophie's World. My aim was a fictional work that illuminated, entertaining along the way.
The book wrote itself over the next seven weeks, although it was only just over 50k words in that first draft. Realising I had no idea how to write a book, let alone get one published, I turned to professional help from Alice Peck. Because she's such a pleasure to work with, Alice is very busy. I paused for a while for her to come free and tear into my manuscript. In the meantime, I gave it to a few patient early readers.
By Christmas, the draft was back in my hands, along with feedback from Alice and the first readers. After a few weeks' work, the second draft went out to a next round of helpful guinea pigs. The discussions with them raised three significant points:
"Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?"
So, a major re-write occupied and entertained me for another four or five weeks. Then I tucked into an involved round of self-editing - reapplying the "rules" that Alice had taught me. The book expanded to just over 80k words.
Then, when I learned that Phil helped one of my favourite new sci-fi authors, Ian Sainsbury, I contacted him for the finishing touches.
There you have it, the story of Phil Grimm's conception and impending birth. Watch this space for updates and launch announcement!
The Non-dualogues share the conversations between slumberfogey and the pilgrim, in slumberfogey’s flat in London. Occasionally, the pilgrim brings friends, who join in the discussion.
slumberfogey: Ah. You’ve come back! Excellent. Did you pass the Sainsburys on your way here? It’s just a few doors down.
pilgrim: Don’t worry. I have biscuits.
s: Biscuits. What a wonderful idea! Thank you.
p: While I make the tea, can you tell me how we’ll get started?
s: You are a quick study, aren’t you? Okay, why don’t you start by telling me what is happening?
p: Let’s see… Arsenal lost to Nottingham Forest in the FA Cup this week, which has put my knickers in a twist. My mum’s boiler’s on the blink, so I have to find someone to sort that. I got a pay rise, which brings me almost up to minimum wage…
s: Slow down. Everything you’ve said (except perhaps the knicker thing) is about the past or the future. I mean what is happening, now? Let’s even capitalize it - What Is Happening?
p: Right now, I’d say, Prime Minister’s Questions are happening, for what it’s worth. Polar bears are starving. Tottenham fans are having a giggle.
s: Pilgrim. Are you in a grumpy mood? Have a biscuit, and let’s be more precise.
p: I’m not sure exactly how many polar bears are starving.
s: I mean, none of those things is in your direct experience right now. Ideas about them are, granted. But tell me What, in your direct, indisputable experience, Is Happening. Now.
p: I’m sipping tea, chewing a biscuit, and trying to speak at the same time.
s: That’s an excellent start! How do you know you’re sipping tea?
p: What do you mean, how do I know? I’m right here, sipping. And this, (slurp) is tea!
s: You’re handling this moment with the precision of a World War II bombardier. Imagine yourself more like a laser eye surgeon. What Is Happening?
p: I’m imagining myself as a laser eye surgeon.
s: Are you taking the piss? Okay. How are you certain you’re imagining yourself as a laser eye surgeon?
p: I feel like I’m missing something here. Or maybe you are.
s: How are you sure you’re not dreaming of picturing yourself as a laser eye surgeon?
p: Because I’m sitting here, awake, and a bit annoyed.
s: If you were dreaming, wouldn’t it also seem like you were awake?
p: Okay. I think I see what you are getting at.
s: Good. Let’s try again. See this photo? What Is Happening?
p: Light is reflecting off of a photo in your hand. Some of it is entering my pupils and striking my retinas, sending signals up my optical nerves to my brain, which creates a disturbing mental image of you wearing a mankini and stroking a llama.
s: Ah. A scientific explanation. First, that’s my mate, Phil in the llama suit. I had a beige leotard on under the mankini, so relax. It was a fancy dress party. Outrageous! Second, I love science. Can’t get enough of it. But the scientific answer gets updated. Newton updated the theory of light. Maxwell updated that. Quantum mechanics updated that. What description would have been accurate in any of those eras, would survive science’s future advances, and would be accurate whether or not you were dreaming?
p: I am seeing an image of you stroking a man in a llama suit.
s: Better! Now, can there be any doubt you are seeing it?
p: Well, I’m not smelling it, am I? Thank God.
s: What if you were in a terrible car crash a year ago? What if the doctors could only save your brain and keep it alive in a vat? What if they could stimulate the visual cortex with electrodes to produce images of me in a mankini?
p: Then I’d say science got its priorities terribly wrong at some point.
s: What description would be accurate in that scenario and all the others we’ve mentioned?
p: I have an image of you in a mankini, stroking a man in a llama suit.
s: Better. Better! But, you have it? What, are you inert? Like a bowl?
p: I am experiencing an image of you in a mankini, stroking a man in a llama suit!
s: Even better! But does the image, in itself, convey that it is me stroking a man in a llama suit?
p: Is this ever going to end? Okay. I am experiencing an image of you holding an image. I am also experiencing a belief that the image you hold is of you stroking a man in a llama suit.
s: Super! Terrific! Laser surgery standard. What was different about that final description?
p: I only appealed to my direct, mental experience.
s: That’s right. All of your older descriptions might have been accurate, but you can’t be sure they were. That last one, you could know. It was only imperfect in that you had to use words to render it for me. But now, it’s just a memory that may or may not be accurate. You see. What Is Happening is your complete, instantaneous, experience. Nothing more and nothing less. Shall we look at it more closely?
p: Closer than we already have? Are you kidding? Can we move on from the mankini?
s: You’ve sharpened your attention, but you’ve narrowed your focus to do it. Let’s see if we can maintain the attention but with a broad, open awareness. Are you up for it?
p: Let’s go.
s: Okay. Close your eyes.
p: Please promise me you won’t take off your clothes.
s: Of course I won’t! Please!
For the next few minutes, don’t reply by speaking. Just think to yourself.
Do you notice the sound of my voice? Its pitch? Its volume? What other sounds are you aware of, now—between the words or beside them?
Do you sense the pressure of your bottom on the seat? Of your feet on the floor? The feeling of your clothes against your skin? Of the air on your face? What other touch are you aware of?
Do you notice any tastes? Does the breath moving through your mouth have a taste?
Are you experiencing any smells? From your bath or your meal? What other smells are you aware of?
Now open your eyes. Experience the surrounding light. The array of colors. The shadows. Do you notice my image? Images of other objects? Which images are clear and which blurred? Do the images change, move? What other sights are you aware of?
Eyes closed again, notice the position of your arms, neck and head. Which muscles are taut and which relaxed? Do you feel warm or cool? Hungry?
Is there any sense of fear, comfort, impatience, or peace? Feelings of love or anger?
Do you notice thoughts? A succession, each arises and dissolves as the next replaces it. Memories. Anticipations. Questions. Decisions. Are you aware of a sense of will?
All these components of experience—these phenomena—in ever-changing, varied combinations, make up What Is Happening in every second of life.
How was that?
p: Wild! In a way, I know all that is always going on, but it has never struck me so clearly.
s: See how comprehensive, how complete, What Is Happening is? How everything—including any thoughts or feelings of approval or dissatisfaction with What Is Happening, any wishes it were different—is an aspect of What Is Happening, within experience itself?
p: A lot of it is thought, especially if you include memories, anticipations and judgments. I guess a lot is emotions as well.
s: Your experience can be conceptually broken into sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, thoughts and sensations (where sensations include emotions and other bodily sensations). But do you realize that all those categories are just concepts? Do you experience things in those separate categories?
p: I guess not. It’s all just one big multimedia wave, isn’t it?
s: That’s right. There are no boundaries within your experience. Those categories, when they occur to you, are just thoughts. We’ll talk more about boundaries next week, and about where you fit into all this.
p: Where I fit in? I’m right here!
s: Perhaps. Let’s see next week. Until then! Mind your step.
The Non-dualogues share the conversations between slumberfogey and the pilgrim, in slumberfogey’s flat in London. Occasionally, the pilgrim brings friends, who join in the discussion.
slumberfogey: Welcome, pilgrim. I’m glad you could make it.
pilgrim: Thank you, slumberfogey. Is that what I should call you? What sort of a name is that?
p: slumberfogey? slumberfogey. SLUMBERFOGEY!
s: Sorry. Did I drift off? Please, no words in caps. Let’s keep it peaceful.
p: Sorry. Bad night?
s: Is it evening already?
p: No. I mean last night. You seem tired.
s: No, no. I’m just being efficient with my energy. So, what would you like to talk about?
p: Well, the ad said I could get enlightenment, or something like that?
s: Is that what I said? Bit naughty of me. Felt like I needed to talk up the product to get people’s attention. Do you want your money back?
p: I didn’t pay anything.
s: Ah. Just as well.
s: Yes? What would you like to discuss?
p: Well, in the ad, your picture made you seem quite, um, old, like you are. And sort of peaceful and wise. And it said your teachings could point me toward my true nature. That’s why I came. Sound familiar?
s: Relax for me. You can make yourself anything you like.
p: So what do I do - breath deeply?
s: No. You make us tea. I’ll have a Pukka Relax blend. You can have that or anything else I’ve got. Everything’s in the kitchen. Go on - that’s the price of admission. In the meantime, I’ll get started. The first thing we need to discuss is the main obstacle to our understanding one another.
p: (Over his shoulder from the kitchen…) What’s that?
s: Language. Well, actually just words. Our body language and tone of voice will be quite helpful.
p: So… words might stand in the way of our having a good discussion?
s: There’s no ‘might’ about it. They’re an absolute nightmare. Still, at least for a while, they’re what we’ve got. The first thing to learn is that nothing I say is true.
p: You’re a liar? Here’s your tea.
s: Thanks. No. That’s not it. What does the word ‘truth’ mean to you?
p: I don’t know. Something like accuracy, I guess.
s: Accuracy regarding what?
s: Reality? Right. So, a true statement represents reality.
p: I’m going with that. Yep.
s: How different do you think it is to view a map of London or read an article about it, versus spending a week walking around and seeing it?
p: There’s all the difference in the world. They don’t even compare.
s: The same chasm exists between even the most exact description of reality and reality itself. Reality can’t be pinned down and captured by words. That’s why nothing I say is true. The best any of us can do is point toward the truth. Some statements point more accurately than others, but none are true.
p: Okay, but you’ll give me, like, knowledge, right, of my true nature?
s: No. Sorry. I can, though, point you toward understanding. But that understanding has to be something you experience for yourself. You’ll avoid knowledge at all costs.
p: But I want knowledge!
s: You think you do, but as you learn, you’ll see that knowledge is heavy and slow. It’s yesterday’s news. You’ll come to value lived understanding, which refreshes itself with every tick of the clock.
p: So, you’re not going to speak the truth, and you’re not going to give me knowledge. What else should I know about the product?
s: With any luck, by the time we’re through, you'll stop hoping for enlightenment.
p: So I’ll stop caring about the thing I came here for?
s: Yes. You’re catching on.
p: No, I’m not!
s: Okay, the product differs from what you thought it was. Decide whether you want to come back next week. Only return if you want to pursue the understanding I’ve hinted at, for its own sake. If you do, and if you’re willing to look at - to face - whatever truth you find, then I’ll see you next Thursday. You can bring biscuits if you like.
First posted 2 Jan 2005. This still rings true to me!
On the first day of Christmas my true Lord said to me: Thou shalt not kill.
On the second day of Christmas my true Lord said to me:
On the third day...
On the ninth day...
On the tenth day of Christmas my true Lord said to me:
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true Lord said to me: Do unto others as you would have done unto you.
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true Lord said to me: Ughhhhh! I'm tired of trying to do this through one liners.
There's something to be said for succinctness, sure, but you guys still don't get it. I mean, where's the ambiguity in 'Thou shalt not kill'?
I guess if I were pushed to stick to the traditional style, the twelfth would be something like 'Thou shalt not invoke my name to compel or restrict the actions of others.' In other words, leave the judgment to Me!
It is Christ's birthday. For His sake, do not presume to take my role into your own hands while claiming to act for Me. Some of you even have the audacity to break my first commandment in the process - killing people who don't live in accordance with your interpretation of My law. Sometimes I wonder whether this whole enterprise was a mistake.
For those of you who are a bit on the gullible side, let me spell a couple of things out for you. NO ONE who is claiming to act in my name is doing so with my blessing - NO ONE. Some are being sincere: among them, some are crazy (take great pains to keep them at a distance) while others are just misinformed (just ignore them). Not all, however, are even sincere. There are plenty of "God's messengers" out there who are simply seeking to pull one over on you, to manipulate you, to control you (fear them and suspect all that they do and say).
Read my lips: no one is authorised to pronounce My judgment on someone else. Live your OWN life according to your understanding of my wishes. Let others do the same. Let earthly considerations inform earthly laws. Any eternal reckoning will be handled after each of you passes from the earthly realm, and I'll be in the mood for some serious ass kickin' if you are one of those who've tried to pass themselves off as my lieutenants!
There. I've got that off my chest. To be honest, you guys need a re-casting of this whole commandment thing. So...
On the twelfth day of Christmas, I say unto to you:
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
I once read that one way to undertake life is to act so as to minimize the regret you will feel on your death bed.
Is this a legitimate mechanism for sifting the important from the unimportant? I don’t mean the theoretically important, the universally important or any sort of externally important. I mean what really matters to you, what makes you deeply happy. Might this Death Bed Test provide a useful perspective onto what constitutes a good life?
Why should it matter what you would think on your death bed? The vast majority of your life is not spent on your death bed. What makes that perspective especially legitimate? Might it be an intuitive test for what our unmet human needs are?
Indulge me for a moment on a little stroll through a ‘what if’ scenario. I think that it could be enlightening. What if we were really made in a certain way – whether by evolution, by design or by design executed through evolution? What if our make-up was such that certain activities or states of affairs were inherently rewarding, fulfilling – made us happy, while others did not? What if some activities and states did quite the opposite?
What if the happiness-producing activities included the ones that satisfied one of the 'Four Fs' when they were called for? Eating when hungry, successfully escaping a predator and retiring to a safe location, successfully fighting off a predator or competitor for your hunting territory, mating.
What if they also included those activities that defined a purpose or meaning for us in the face of our own mortality, the ones through which we experienced agency, the ones by which we authentically presented ourselves to the world, the ones through which we found belonging?
What if our minds were more adept at pursuing the basic activities than those that met the younger, higher-order needs? What if we were lucky enough to live in an environment in which those most basic needs were routinely and reliably met?
What if the mind detected a shortfall in the higher-order needs but misattributed the longing to a non-existent shortfall in one of the basic ones? What if, despite continued pursuit and over-fulfillment of basic needs , the mind continued to sense some longing that was obviously not being met?
Would the mind go into overdrive? Would it obsessively and counterproductively adopt a competitive posture, flushing the body with hormones to prepare it for a Four F-type encounter? Would it keep reminding itself of its own inescapable dissatisfaction? Would it ‘pull up’ the drawbridge, focusing relentlessly on its apparently urgent, basic needs?
In short, would it, in the face of unmet needs of the younger, higher-order kind, still accidentally neglect those needs while counterproductively pursuing activities to meet basic needs that in truth are already met? I think you see the point I’m making.
Now, fast forward. What if the patient is on his death bed. Despite all attempts to deny it, he now faces the inescapable truth that his time on Earth is ending. He knows that no food, no money, no sexual partners, no Stuff will pass with him from this world.
What if, in this extraordinary state, the mind finally calls a halt to the churning pursuit of those ancient, animal needs? What if, in those moments of clarity, the smoke of spinning mental activity cleared, the veils of primordial obsession dissolved, he is able to see, with a simplicity that surprises him, what the unmet needs were all along? What if he sees what his unique human needs were? What if he sees with shining clarity the happy, fulfilled life he might have led?
Would this constitute a privileged perspective? Would being able to fast-forward to that perspective sooner rather than later be of value to the (hopefully) long life yet to be lived before the death bed? I think so.
So what do most people, on their death bed, say they would change? What are the things they now realise were the unmet needs? The needs that sprang from their being a human but were clouded, hidden and confused by their being an animal. Writer and pastor John Ortberg has most often heard, ‘I would have loved more deeply.’ ‘ I would have laughed more often.’ ‘I would have given more generously.’ ‘I would have lived more boldly.’ Palliative care worker, Bronnie Ware, whose patients were home for the final weeks of their lives, identifies five themes:
Really though, my point is less about what people do actually say when asked such questions than about what your own calm contemplation suggests you might say. As I’ve discussed this with a number of friends and colleagues, themes emerge around self-understanding, being true to one’s self, pursuing one’s real ambitions and nurturing and appreciating one’s most treasured relationships.
I suggest that you reflect on this hypothetical look back on life. Rather than simply doing from this negative perspective of life regrets, flip things around to pen your ideal eulogy. What is the short passage by which you would like to be remembered? What elements of your life does it draw on?
While I think it is important to work out what matters, I suggest pursuing your answers in the form of pragmatic wisdom rather than certain knowledge. I would warn against subscribing to ‘systems of thought’ that claim to deduce logical certainties and irrefutable truths. Instead, I suggest carefully considering and testing the assumptions at the foundation of your beliefs, the ultimately unprovable axioms from which we all must start.
I think that some useful rules of thumb for this reflection are to: keep an open mind, judge pragmatically, favour (among pragmatically successful alternatives) simplicity and beauty.
...[T]hrough habituation and social comparison, we find ourselves in a no-win situation in which no level of income or consumption remains satisfying for long — the hedonic treadmill. The more people seek to boost consumption, the more income they require and the harder and longer they must work, undermining those activities that are actually fulfilling and satisfying…
On our hedonic treadmill, like the Red Queen in Alice’s adventures, we seemingly have to run at full steam just to stay still. Might our real mistake be that we’re chasing the wrong things? Is there a mass misdiagnosis of our needs?
Technological and other cultural evolution have supplanted biological evolution as the prime drivers of change for humans and for Earth. The culturally-dominated modern environment is profoundly different from the evolutionary environment that shaped us, and life for most in developed western countries (despite a growing class of the left-behind) is characterized by abundance rather than scarcity of material resources. Why can’t we just relax in comfort? Might our evolutionary programming now be leading us astray?
Because our antennae sense relative rather than absolute need, unquenchable human longing follows a seemingly endless trail of desires and aversions. Constant comparison and competition drive an undercurrent of discontent – the wish for more, different, better things. The hyper-capitalist economies of English-speaking countries feed and amplify this discontent to a fever pitch while enticing the individual to invest ever more exclusively in an all-consuming work life to finance material acquisition and social status.
Work life crowds out the relationships and diverse activities that would otherwise enrich life. The individual’s overreliance on his work for so much of his sense of well-being and self-worth leaves him in a precarious position, in thrall to others who are under intense pressure to optimize his contribution as a resource rather than his well-being as a complex person.
Our human longing is telling us something, but we are misunderstanding the ache we feel. Beyond a quite basic level of material need, our satisfaction, happiness and well-being aren’t to be found in an increasing reliance on material wealth, a narrowing focus on extrinsic success and a shrinking sphere of concern limited to our most basic drives. As with all addictions, satisfying one desire brings a brief sense of bliss followed by the rapid arousal of yet more subjective ‘needs’. Desires, like cancerous cells, multiply and refuse to die.
Our true satisfaction is best served by freeing ourselves from the shackles of our multiplying desires. Our lives become richer when we place proper value on our own time and energy, when we nurture the most durable and important external ‘assets’ we have, our relationships with others.
All the harder, I know, when our ‘communication’ technologies (like where you are reading this) are in truth finely-tuned mechanisms for stoking exactly the covetousness that keeps the hedonic treadmill turning.
I read an unfortunate story in the news some years ago. An elderly man, suffering from dementia and obviously not fit to be behind the wheel of a car, accidentally turned into Third Street Promenade, a pedestrianised street in Santa Monica, California. Realising that something was wrong, he pressed down his foot to brake, but his foot was on the accelerator. The car sped forward. The man could tell something was wrong, as people leapt out of his way or bounced off his bumper. He just didn’t realize he needed to shift his foot to stomp on a different pedal. He pressed harder and harder on the accelerator in his efforts to stop, and the car sped down the crowded plaza, killing a number of people before crashing to a stop.
The man didn’t understand what was going on. First of all, these people shouldn’t be in the middle of a road. He was in a car, and cars travel where people are not. He found himself in an environment that didn’t fit with his (deteriorating) understanding of driving. Second, he failed in his corrective actions. He knew he should slow down. He knew that he needed to press down his foot to brake. But his automatic muscle memory that should have shifted his foot to the brake pedal from the accelerator wasn’t functioning properly. From his perspective, he was braking, but inexplicably, the car was rocketing forward. All he could do in his confused state was continue pushing his foot down, because that was supposed to work.
While this is not a perfect analogy for our mind in the modern environment, I think that there may be some illuminating parallels. We’re not seeing the world clearly. Our evolutionary and historically-programmed short-cuts are unreliable in a much-changed world. We’re pushing on the wrong pedals in our efforts to improve our situations.
First posted 17 Feb 2004. To be honest, I'm not really sure that I HAVE a moral code now, in a standard sense. I think that we all have moral (as opposed to practical - like let's all drive on the right hand side of the road so that we crash into one another) rules for the same reason that some of us have glasses and contact lens, because we don't see things clearly enough to operate without them.
I guess the way I think about it remains broadly consequentialist, but I probably lean more now to 'act' rather than 'rule' utilitarianism (see below). But I don't really think of it in terms of adding up the goods and the bads of every action. Just considering the impact as broadly as possible and acting with love in your heart, as if everyone/everything impacted were yourself.
Taking a fresh look in every moment and acting appropriately with current information is what is most important, so the 'Pragmatic' element is central to me now.
I believe that man writes his own moral code. No one else out there has written it for us. Having rejected God as a moral source, I also reject pure reason - in the sense that Kant meant it - because its realm is too narrow. Pure reason can help us reach desired ends, but it cannot define those ends. Emotion is central to defining objectives, including moral ones.
My approach is broadly consequentialist. If you can accept, as I do, that pain and death are generally bad and that life and well-being are generally good, then we can travel at least part of the road together. We may disagree eventually on matters of finer detail - does the well-being of non-humans count?, future generations?, prudes?, sadists? should we handle acts and omissions differently? - but let's not get wrapped up in that for now.
I have several problems with simple (or what might be called 'act') utilitarianism. First, it requires the accurate assessment of the effects that two or more alternative actions will have. Many effects will be unpredictable. Second, it requires that we be able to assess the mental state of others - will Mary be more happy in case A or case B? How do I know what Mary will feel, let alone the many others who will feel second- and third-order effects of my actions? The third point is not wholly distinct from the first two but bears highlighting, and that is the sheer volume, the enormity of the calculation required for every morally relevant decision. Life would grind to a halt.
My final issue with act utilitarianism is quite different. Irrespective of the difficulty of predicting objective effects, assessing subjective ones and somehow calculating it all with the appropriate weights, I fear that we can't really TRUST ourselves in the heat of the moment to do the sums honestly. In the midst of life's whirl, aren't we all too likely to 'queer the pitch', to 'fudge the sums', to 'bake the numbers' to make the calculation come out in favour of whatever course we want to follow? Even if this weren't likely to happen consciously, surely our tricky subconscious would jump in to 'guide' the process…
This collection of concerns leads me to see R.M. Hare's two-level utilitarian model as the best guide to practical ethics. I won't attempt to lay out Hare's argument but rather lay out my own explanation. Because of the problems I mentioned above, strict act utilitarianism is wholly impractical and potentially biased. In truth we all act according to intuitive, general rules most of the time. These rules could come from any source - tradition, self interest, religious belief - but I believe they should be based on accumulated experience and 'off-line' critical assessment of 'what-if' scenarios using an act-utilitarian framework. Because these calculations are not done in the heat of the moment and are smoothed over an 'average' of different situations, they are less susceptible to the problems I've outlined. This critical reasoning creates a system of rules, which guide the vast majority of our day-to-day decision making.
The rules are formed on consequentialist grounds, so this is often called rule utilitarianism. A system of rules or principles formed in this way guides my practical ethical thinking. There are, however, times when we should or need to revert to the critical (strict, act utilitarian) level. If two or more of my principles conflict, I need to resort to a more critical analysis (again, on consequentialist grounds) of which should take precedence. When I encounter a highly unusual situation that lies outside the realm of my experience and previous contemplation, for which my existing principles cannot be extrapolated, then I must return to the critical level. When there is a clear case of utility maximisation in which I am highly likely to be able to trust my own calculations and in which application of my intuitive rule would lead to a sub-optimal outcome, then I must revert to the critical level. Now, I am quite a conservative person, so I believe we should be VERY careful about that third point. We must not use it as a way to override our own rules for our own advantage. I personally think that application of this third exception should be very rare indeed.
Now, this whole method for practical ethics has a strong parallel with the process by which William James explains that we gain knowledge of any kind, the empirical and psychological process by which he says we access truth. I won't go into it further here, but it is worth pointing out that my ethical system is just a special application of a general method for attaining knowledge / identifying truth in a world in which (as far as we know) no objective and absolute truth exists. James's school of philosophy is called Pragmatism, and although (for all I know) my approach to practical ethics may be quite different from what he put forward, I think of my system as Pragmatic Ethics.
Pragmatic not in the cynical sense of conveniently justifying our selfish wants with ethical rationalisation, but rather in the sense that it allows for learning, for incorporating greater experience - not just 'real world' experience but also reflective experience via the thought experiments that test our ethical principles in a range of situations. Pragmatic Ethics allows for the ongoing incorporation of new information, for adjustment of the rules to encompass a growing range of situations, for continued honing to find as simple and elegant articulation as possible (but no simpler!).
This is the way that science advances. But in an important way, science is simpler than ethics. Science can advance for humanity on aggregate. Discoveries made by one person are tested by others, accepted as the best working model, and used by the entire field until disproven or supplanted by a more encompassing explanation. This is because science, at its purest, involves falsifiable hypotheses that can be repeatedly tested by different observers who carefully replicate the relevant conditions for the test.
Ethics is much more complex, if for no other reason than that it does not refer to an objective 'it' in the universe. So, although I am suggesting an approach that parallels the scientific approach in its openness to continuous 'improvement', I am certainly not suggesting that ethics can be reduced to science. Despite exactly that assertion from generations of great thinkers, I think the fact that no synthesis has coalesced over these millennia speaks for itself.
I'm curious. I like looking beneath and behind the obvious, also looking for what is between me and the obvious, obscuring or distorting my view.