Are you really meditating?

(cc) IchZeit, Flickr.com.

In the many discourses I host or participate in, both online with our members, and in my local chapter of the Society, it is a common thing to hear a visitor talk about a certain kind of problem they are facing. This is the problem of mental stress which, they are often aware, is caused by ruminations and preoccupations. Sometimes the complaint is a lack of focus or attention. Other times it is forgetfulness. It could be an inability to get to sleep at night, or continuous worrying, or just general stress. A fewer number of times, the complaint comes from a person engaged in spiritual practice, who is having trouble staying mindful of various truths which are a part of that path’s teachings.

All of these are rooted in the same thing: an inability to sovereignly decide what their minds will think about, and when – including an inability to still the mind at will. When I recognize this common ailment, I usually ask, “Do you meditate?”  I have recently realized that I need to be far more specific because there are many things that people call ‘meditation’. Even more challenging, some of these are activities which have the exact opposite purposes and effects than what I mean by the word. Therefore, the practitioner may not realize this is why “meditation” doesn’t seem to be working for them. What they are doing may, in fact, be exacerbating their issues.

One of the most common things I hear from people who are either thinking about meditating, or who have tried meditating, but have not received very knowledgeable instruction or explanation of it, is the following: When I ask them to describe what they are doing, they will often tell me they close their eyes, relax, and let their mind float freely, drifting on to whatever thoughts they may have, and then examining those; allowing them to inform them about themselves and what’s on their mind. This is not what I meant when I asked them about meditation.

Now, let us pause to be sure the reader doesn’t get distracted by a semantic debate (semantics being generally less interesting and less important than discussions about the concepts behind the semantics). Certainly, there are traditions that refer to practices like the above with the word “meditation”, and there is nothing wrong with using whatever words we like for various things. It may be enough to say that there are different kinds of mediation, and it is important to know what kind we are talking about. To be clear, I will use the word “introspection” to describe the above. It is not important that your use of terms match mine, however; only that you know what I’m talking about when I use them.

Introspection

Among those who have read or been taught very little of Buddhist philosophy (or even Eastern philosophy), it is very common to think introspection is what these meditators are doing (it looks the same from the outside). This is because, in the Western world, far more people are familiar with the popular psychology techniques, at least as they are often caricatured in the media. This ‘letting your mind drift’ may be helpful for an external observer to gain understanding of what is on your mind, but it is the exact opposite of mindfulness meditation. And, likewise, their effects are radically different from one another.

If rumination-caused stress is your issue, then this form of introspection may deceptively feel, in the time you are doing it, like an answer. It is definitely relaxing to let go and let your mind wander – and relaxing is the opposite of stress. But when you are finished, you will be right back where you started. In fact, you might even be worse off because ‘wandering thoughts’ are precisely what ruminations are. If you are plagued with worry or aggravation over some issue, then letting your mind wander might simply drum up more and more circular ‘wheels turning’.

Mindfulness Meditation

Mindfulness meditation works differently. You might think of introspection like laying in a hot tub – very relaxing. But what people under these particular conditions need is to develop a capacity which they are lacking. They need to develop the ability to focus their attention, and in so doing, allow all the other distracting mental activity to quiet down. Meditation is not relaxation – it is hard work. If introspection is lying in a hot tub, then meditation is working out in the weight room.

In this kind of meditation, you do the opposite of letting your mind wander. You stay focused on one sensation – one very boring and difficult sensation to stay focused on. Some people use repetitive drumming or chants, etc. But the most common thing to focus on is the breath. To be sure, your mind will fight you. It will try to wander. And when it does, you will set those thoughts aside and return to the breath. You will do this hundreds of times (an understatement). And, eventually, you will notice that you are able to stay focused on the breath, and only the breath, for longer and longer periods before the mind wanders. You will eventually get to the point where you can maintain a meditative state in your normal activities, or return to a still mind at will. This is the capacity that must be rigorously developed to resolve the kinds of issues I’ve described.

Learn more details about this kind of meditation: Meditation 101

It makes perfect sense that ‘free roaming mind’ techniques are favored so much in our culture. They are all about ‘me’. They are about my thoughts, my opinions, my feelings. Introspection, improperly applied, can feed an attachment to these thoughts, beliefs, and judgments and reinforce an over-identification of them with ‘you’. This is not the path to escape from the ego – part of the problem underlying the symptoms described.

Having said that, it’s not that there isn’t a place for introspection. Certainly, it is important to have times where you let the mind wander. This can help us learn about our own subconscious, and it can be a wonderful tool for stoking creativity. This kind of state is greatly exaggerated in certain rituals such as vision quests, the ceremonial use of ritual substances, and other exploration-based practices. Free-roaming introspection can be an invaluable source of epiphany and a part of peak experience, which is helpful in cultivating a deep, intuitive grasp on certain profound perspectives. But, as with all spiritual practices: the right medicine for the right ailment.

Exercise as Meditation

Exercise is another thing which is commonly claimed to fill the role of meditation. Many people have reported a meditative-like experience when engaged in athletic activity. They say this helps them to ‘clear their mind’ and ‘work off stress’. Surely, it does do this. There are some ways in which athletic activity is like mindfulness meditation, and other ways it is not.

The most recognizable sensation exercise shares with meditation is the absence of ruminations (distracting thoughts and concerns) when in flow. Yet, it seems to me that this is achieved in a different way. In the case of meditation, the ruminations subside after an increase in the skill of sharply focusing all attention such that the mental activity doesn’t spread onto other things. In physical exercise, this diminishing of ruminations seems (from my experience) to take place because the brain is forced to shift activity and blood flow to more motor-based functions, and away from the conscious part of the brain.

In other words, you can’t help but stop ruminating because your frontal lobes aren’t being given priority by the rest of your body*. While it is true that you choose to stay focused, the physical activity is itself a distraction.  I have, at times, tried to read while on a treadmill or similarly engage in intellectual activity while under physical exertion, and it is difficult. This difficulty was not due to my discipline of keeping my attention focused or my mind still. It was, rather, due to my inability to think about things even when trying. The blood and energy were simply in another place.

Of course, the very fact that you got a break from ruminations that may be plaguing you is something attractive. And, add to that, physical exertion alone is a form of stress relief. Therefore, exercise has many good mental benefits, only adding to the body health benefits. Exercise too, has an important and valuable place. But it would be a mistake to think it is doing everything that meditation is doing.
Although your ruminations subsided during exercise, your ‘attention faculty’ did not have to discipline itself in order to make it happen. Because of this, exercise (seems to me) to be less capable of developing in us the ability to utilize that increased focus in our daily activities, as well as the ability to still the mind (closely related to focus).  None of this is sharply and absolutely the case between exercise and meditation. But, in general, the skilled meditator will have an increased equanimity and ability to stay mindful and clear headed when encountering difficult circumstances in life. Consider, for a moment, top athletes who nevertheless do not seem very mindful outside of the sports arena, and may experience many forms of emotional disruption, anger, or stress.

The difference becomes even more pronounced when you are engaged in a philosophic and spiritual practice that includes far more than just meditation. It is here where the benefits and necessity of meditation begin to be more obvious. This focus, mastery of attention, enhanced mindfulness, and stillness of mind is absolutely essential to taking some of the more profound philosophic value systems in, for example, Stoicism or Buddhism, and integrating them into your daily walk. And, only through that integration can habits form and real character transformation begin to take place. This is the continual transformation to an evermore enlightened state in which a True Happiness can be experienced.

Contemplation

As a footnote, there is another classification of attention practices, alongside introspection and meditation, which should be mentioned. What I am calling ‘contemplation‘ is something different from either. Like meditation, contemplation is focusing and, unlike introspection, not letting that focus deviate. However, the object upon which you are focusing is not persistent or cyclical, such as with the breath, a mantra, and so on. In contemplation, you actually do work with language-based and logic-based data. You are handling thoughts, addressing what-if’s, considering scenarios, weighing options, and so on. But unlike introspection, you are doing so in a very orderly and deliberative way, on a particular topic or issue. You are not letting whatever subjects pop into your mind as they will. As you might imagine, skill at mindfulness meditation would be a good prerequisite to contemplation, in order to maintain a disciplined focus. Contemplation would likely be a harmful prescription for those plagued by ruminations, as much of the wheel-turning going on in their heads is a kind of non-productive dwelling on particular issues. Again, the right medicine for the right ailment.



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*This description is merely my first-hand sense of what these experiences are like subjectively, compared to one another. They should not be taken as literal explanations of objective brain functions, for which rigorous scientific studies are a better source. These kinds of studies are still new, and interpretation of their data is still often debated.

The integrated practice

A puzzle can’t be assembled without knowing the full picture. (cc) Ella Phillips.

I’ve been an artist as long as I can remember. My father is a traditional oil painter whose work usually involves realistic landscapes. Being works of realism, his paintings have always been very detailed (one can literally count the leaves on some of his trees). This influenced me toward realism and hyper-detail in my own drawings growing up. I would often begin a drawing by working on one little spot at full detail, moving around the page, until the whole thing was complete.

It was not until I went to college, majoring in fine arts, that I learned to loosen up and approach a drawing as one large composition.  I was frustrated and surprised when, in my first life drawing classes, we’d be given just minutes or even seconds to draw a figure before the pose would change. We were told that we should be able to stop at any point, and the drawing should be complete in its form – but simply at varying levels of detail. This forced me to look at an entire composition as a snapshot. At that point, I could develop shade, form, and detail to whatever level desired. This had several effects on my work: I was able to achieve greater accuracy in proportion, better composition, and it added a great deal more expression and movement to my work.

In recent years I’ve noticed a similar principle can apply to our spiritual practice. And, by this, I mean all of our life practices – not just the ones we typically think of as the official “spiritual practices”. Many ancient philosophers recognized that our aim is to ‘live well’ and, by this reckoning, there is no real distinction between matters of ethics, health, spirituality, or wisdom. They are all habits we try to build in living well.
In the past, I had always thought it would be too much to try and do everything at once. For example, if I decided I’d like to build a habit of journaling, or eating right, or meditating, etc – I would take on that one project, and imagine that I would build the habit until I was perfect in it. Then, after that point, I could look at building another habit, and so on.

Inevitably, I would not be perfect at it. I would continue to falter. Frustratingly, sometimes I would build a decent habit and then flub up. At that point I would feel defeated and then cease my efforts. This process of repeated failure to build the one habit meant I’d never get to the others. Or, if I did, it would be absent the first habit I had tried to establish earlier.

But lately I’ve found – for me at least – that I am typically more successful when I don’t try to divide and conquer. Instead, I think about everything I want to do better, and then try to do it all at once – diving into my new life.

This seems counter-intuitive. If I couldn’t handle one habit, how could I possible take on all these ideal goals at once? In my personal practice, some of the major elements I try to build are: regular exercise, good diet, daily meditation, daily journaling on my progress, continuous mindfulness, compassion, kind demeanor, and better attention to duties. There are some other occasional things, such as educational reading and so on, as well.  But, without ‘right effort’ as the Buddhists put it, the default state would include a lot of laziness, snacking, couch-potatoing on the computer or TV, and so on. Only through an examined life and continuous effort can progress be made along such a path.

What I have found, is that by taking it all on at once, you build a network between your practices that somehow seem to support one another.  But here’s the catch: this kind of approach forces you into a situation where you will not help but fail. And fail you will, again and again. But in a ‘fail-inevitable’ environment, you are forced to come to terms with imperfection, and in so doing, build a strategy that includes a tolerance for failure. It also forces you to give up things that aren’t as important.

Here, instead of giving up when you falter, you press on. The next day you pick it back up. You don’t wait for the next week or for some period after some time has passed, where you weren’t trying, to try again. You just continue on – like stumbling and then making the next step in your stride better. Because your practice is not one habit, but a network of habits, you haven’t really failed on the larger scale. You just have a gradation of imperfection that improves over time.

And, as you press on, it’s important not to punish yourself or try to ‘make up’ for missing different things. If you don’t work out one day, you don’t exercise doubly the next. You just continue your practice normally and, like a stone smoothing under running water, improvement will happen in time. Stay focused on the present.

It is just like drawing a picture by quickly sketching out the entire composition and then making it more perfect over time. You’ll have a ‘bigger picture’ view of things and won’t mind those little pencil strokes that go this way or that – that will simply add to the ‘energy’ of the whole endeavor.  It is also much like meditation. As you try to focus on the breath, stray thoughts and distractions will arise. Simply put them aside and stay focused on the present effort – without frustration about the past or trepidation about the future.

Although I still fall short of my mark many times, I’ve found this integrated and holistic approach has been working for me fairly well. If you are having trouble building the habits you’d like in your life, you might consider ‘jumping in’ and taking it all on at once, rather than focusing on building one at a time to perfection. You’ll be messy; you will stumble; but it will paint a new picture of your life that you can continue to shape.


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What "death is a part of life" means

Created at weavesilk.com.

Often in reading philosophy and wisdom teachings, one has a kind of repeating experience. We see many common phrases or statements by wise teachers. Perhaps we see the same or similar notions from a variety of traditions. And, the first time we see them, we may think we understand them; agreeing or disagreeing. Then we go off, read and learn more, experience life a little more, and before long we come upon the statement again. Only then do we realize that some of the words in it didn’t mean what we thought they did, and that the teaching was more profound than we thought. A little more life experience happens and we may have the experience yet again with that teaching, and this may go on an unknown number of times. Here we see a world of complexity, subtlety, and nuance behind the teaching, and we are never really sure if we’ve fully understood it. As our confidence in our understanding diminishes, our wisdom yet improves and our appreciation for the teaching grows.

One thing we often hear is that “death is a part of life”. On the surface, this seems to be a rather obvious statement. When we look at life as a series of events, it quite plainly includes being born, a bunch of stuff happening, and then – inevitably – our death. So, death is a part of life, learning to walk is a part of life, getting a job is a part of life, and so on. As a comfort for the grieving, this seems about as effective as telling someone to “get over it” or “walk it off”. We might look at this a little more deeply, and see that learning to accept death is a part of a happier life. But even this does not fully unpack the meaning of this teaching.
Most people look at life and death as opposites. But it seems this isn’t exactly right. Rather, the opposite of life is lifelessness. Both of these are conditions or states. But death is an event. It is one half of a cyclical process – the other being birth. And, it is this cyclical process of birth and death that we call life. So, quite literally, death is a part of the process we call life, just as is birth. To imagine death the opposite of life would be as nonsensical as to imagine birth the opposite of life.

This works not just in terms of human or animal life, but life everywhere, in all systems, and on all scales. Even as I sit here, writing this, I cannot do so without death. My typing hands are living tissue made up of cells that are continually dying and being replaced by the birth of new cells. This is only possible because of the sustenance I consumed. Even vegetarians require the death of the organic materials they ingest in order to live. The similarity of these things to the death of our loved ones and ourselves is not merely analogy. They happen for the same reasons and because of the same universal process of all life.

But now consider what we really mean by ‘birth’ and what we really mean by ‘death’? What is really happening? Let us begin by considering the Sloan Great Wall…

Where are the edges of this thing?

At the time I first learned of it, the Sloan Great Wall was considered to be the “largest object in the universe”*. It is a giant wall of galaxies 1.38 billion light-years in length. My first thought on reading this was that the statement was a cheat! This “wall” wasn’t an object at all – it was simply a bunch of galaxies that happened to line up into something we can draw an imaginary line around and give a name to. Sure, they influence one another gravitationally, but to consider them an object? And, what of the surrounding galaxies? They must surely influence the galaxies of the SGW gravitationally, but they arbitrarily don’t get to be a part of this ‘object’? Earth and Mars influence one another. Can I just draw an imaginary line around the two and give the group a name and now it’s an object? It all seemed very fishy to me. It seemed that this name said more about the brains of those who imagined it than about some objective reality in the universe – about as ‘real’ as the constellations we draw heroic figures over in our night sky.

But if the Sloan Great Wall wasn’t the largest object, then what was? Isn’t a galaxy just a collection of star systems? And, a star system seems pretty close to my example of drawing a line around Earth and Mars. The recent hubbub about whether Pluto was a planet was more of a philosophical debate than about any of the objective data.

And so it is with all of existence. Our tiny size compared to the Sloan Great Wall might make its true nature more obvious, but in truth all objects in our world are of this same nature. Everything you’ve ever anticipated getting your hands on, every food you’ve ever desired, every person you’ve ever loved, and you yourself are different conglomerations of particles. And these globs of particles are surrounded by the same kinds of particles, which move into and out of the named glob. That glob further reaches out and manipulates other globs in a manner not unlike it manipulates its own parts. The more we think about this, the more arbitrary that borderline at the edge of each of these forms we’ve given a label to seem – just like drawing a large crab or a hunter around a group of stars in the night sky.

And now consider that none of these structures are permanent. They have all come into their current form for a short time, and as their parts continue moving by natural law, will eventually lose their form, much like seeing Mickey Mouse in the shape of a cloud. You could almost say these forms are somewhat illusory – a helpful habit our brains evolved.

And this is the nature of birth and death.

As we can see, ‘birth’ is a much broader concept of the ‘coming into being’ of various forms, and ‘death’ is the movement of aggregates to the point where we no longer recognize or label a form (or perhaps now label other forms).

Thus, ‘death’ includes the dissolution of, not only things we call life forms, but storms, jobs, relationships, planets, nations, and so on. ‘Birth’ is the coming into being of all of these forms and more, including baby humans. So, in a sense, if these forms are illusory then it begins to look like death (and birth) are illusory. They say more about when our brains identify something than they say about the objective nature of it.

The Buddhists call this realization ‘emptiness’. Understanding death in it’s broadest sense makes us realize how integral all kinds of loss really are to the entire magnificent processes in the universe that make everything possible.

Understanding that our ego, our very self, is also illusory – and the implications of that – is a whole other matter!



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*In January of this year, the Huge Large Quasar Group broke this record; a chain of 73 quasars 4 billion light-years across.

When love seems absent

(cc) William Warby.

We all face times when it seems there is little genuine love in the world. Perhaps we’ve been seeing a lot of depressing things in the news, or perhaps it’s more personal. Maybe it’s been a long time since people close to us have shown any love to us. Maybe it’s a general feeling regarding people we don’t even know, but interact with day to day – people in stores, employees at businesses we patron, neighbors, fellow drivers, etc. Whatever the source or the cause, it can be discouraging when we think of how the world could be – when we think about how we know human beings could be toward one another – and then face striking contrasts to that over time or in a single significant incident.

Responses to this can range from anger to melancholy. We might ‘toughen up’ our outer shell in response; becoming more like the worst we’ve been noticing. Or, we might simply resign ourselves into a quiet depression and withdraw from interactions; looking down as we pass others, being abrupt, and so on.
Here, we’ve found ourselves in a dark corner of the world. There seems to be no love present here. But there is another way to handle times like these.

We might feel we are like batteries, charged by love, and who need to exchange that supply with others. So, in times like these, we feel drained of our charge. We look for, and yearn for, others to come along an recharge us. We wonder how much longer we can hold out.

But this view of human beings and love is a little off base. We are not so much like batteries, which store a charge, than we are like power sources. All goodness and love enters the world through beings that love. If we feel drained and in need of a charge, it may be that we have forgotten a power that we possess. Or, maybe we knew we had this power, but we are thinking that our ability to love isn’t the issue because that would be an outgoing commodity instead of an incoming one. But this too is forgetting the nature of love and of loving.

I would recommend that, whenever we feel we are in a dark place, that we consider this a sign that we’ve been tagged by the cosmos – we’re “it”. Or, if you prefer, we are up to bat. When it seems we have entered a time or place without love or compassion, this means it is our turn to be the source of love for that time and place. I think we would find the results well worth it.

The trick is to make sure that it’s real love. Real love is selfless and not based on reciprocity. If we take on only the first part of this, and go out doing a bunch of nice things for people, we might end up worse than we were after seeing them fail to appreciate our actions or return the love. Some people get the idea that the reason we love when we need love is because others will return it (or be more likely to) and we will therefore benefit. When this doesn’t happen, they imagine their efforts to get a ‘love exchange’ going have failed, and more sadness and feelings of futility ensue. Even in cases where love is returned, this is only an exchange of diminishing returns, and inherently unstable as a source of happiness in the long-term.

The truth is that love and compassion doesn’t work that way. Rather, it is the giving of compassion itself which can be the source of our happiness, if we can recognize it and appreciate it as such. As an example, consider making a small animal in a cage happy with food, who may not realize you as its source. Or, consider an ideal mother who is made happier by caring for an infant who, by nature, cannot yet fully appreciate her actions. She doesn’t have to wait several years to get a return on her investment. She is happier because she truly loves the infant. Likewise, we can cultivate a true, selfless love for others, and not see them as a resource – a place from which to get love – but an opportunity to practice a love of our own. When we are able to cultivate that kind of empathy and compassion, then in our efforts to gain happiness from giving love we cannot fail. We have been made happier through our acts alone – they are not dependent upon the responses of the object of our love.

As just one example, Dr. Emma Seppala has written an article in Psychology Today: “The Best Kept Secret to Happiness: Compassion”. There she provides several research projects which have shown how acts of compassion stimulate the same pleasure centers as when we are the recipients, and the happiness can even be greater. She also describes a host of other benefits beyond mere happiness.

So, when things seem darkest, remember that you can be a source of love. This, in fact, is how humanity can illuminate all the dark corners – by each of us acting as the light when no others are. Every day is another opportunity to be compassionate when least expected!


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Life challenges as mirror

This morning my wife discovered that the left side mirror on her car had been smashed by vandals sometime during the night. The same thing happened to our neighbor’s car, both parked on the street.

As I later reflected on my initial response to this, I found it interesting. Sometimes, as we are making progress in our practice, change is not noticeable until an event takes place that tests us. When this happens, it can remind us of the last time a similar event happened and invite comparisons.

The most notable aspect of my internal response was a complete lack of any kind of any kind of negative feelings about the perpetrator/s. It was almost as if my wife had told me that a branch on our tree had snapped and broken the mirror. I did tell her we needed to notify the police, in case this was part of a pattern of activity, but my main thoughts in this were about other potential victims on our street.

Only when I noticed the absence of that thought later, did it begin to make me think about the perpetrator. And, when I ran the image in my mind of some imagined person (perhaps a youth) doing this, the only feeling that emerged was a sense of concern for this person. If it was a youth, I wondered what might be going on in their life.

Of course, it’s possible that a kid can otherwise have a fairly normal life and end up happy and well adjusted, even if they engaged in a number of ill-conceived misadventures in their youth. But this kind of behavior can also be an indication of deeper things gone wrong. That same lack of empathy for others can potentially manifest itself in more serious acts. Or, if the key attribute was a recklessness and disregard for how their actions might affect their own life, this might be an indication of a self destructive attitude. Of course, I cannot know the details of this person’s life, but if either of these possibilities is on base, it could mean this person is in for a life with some rough patches and the inevitable suffering that comes with such lack of wisdom – a suffering they may not even understand the source of.

My feeling in these thoughts was similar to the concern a parent might have for their child if they learned he or she were leading a self destructive life. We can get a replacement mirror, but this person has much more difficult problems.

As mentioned, this doesn’t mean we don’t alert authorities and that we don’t take whatever actions are appropriate. It is only right to support actions that would protect other victims, and to stop the perpetrator. But this can be done without damaging ourselves with unhelpful impulses and reactions. In fact, we can hope that the consequences for a perpetrator help inspire them to improve, and someday be able to enjoy the peace and contentment that comes from being a better person.

It was fortunate that I didn’t need to be reminded of these perspectives – that they seemed to have become my natural responses. There was a time when my responses would have been different, and that indicates there has been some progress in my spiritual practice. I wanted to take the opportunity to talk about this, because it seemed a good way to illustrate the kind of transformation which our spirituality is about. Have you seen signs of progress is your own natural responses as a result of applied practices over time? If so, please feel free to share them!


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The Spiritual Naturalist Society works to spread awareness of spiritual naturalism as a way of life, develop its thought and practice, and help bring together like-minded practitioners in fellowship.

Mindful Discourse

“Quack Quack!” (cc) Creep Streeps (Art Freak), Flickr.com.

In the Spiritual Naturalist Society – in all of our articles, correspondence, in-person conversations, online conversations, and local events – we always try to encourage mindful discourse. Therefore, it is worth looking at what we mean by mindful discourse in more detail.

The distinguishing characteristic of mindful discourse, is that we want the values and practices of our spiritual path to manifest themselves in our behavior, including in our interaction with others. It is one thing to talk about compassion, for example, but cultivating it ourselves is our aim. And, importantly, outward larger actions alone don’t do the job. We might contribute a sizable amount to important causes, and may even volunteer our time toward them. This may help others, but ultimately the world is most helped when we transform ourselves. This way, we become the kind of beings that are more likely to continue those outward actions into the future, to be more likely to deeply influence and inspire others, and be the kind of beings that will be more capable of enjoying the flourishing life.

Part of the process of achieving that transformation, affecting our inner motivations, is being mindful of the little moment-to-moment things. This touches intimately on what I have described in our Resources section as Demeanor Practice. Often the discussions in our organization involve topics dear to us. This has the potential to throw us into reactionary states of lower mindfulness at times. Recently I had a wonderful discussion with a friend on a very interesting topic. But I noticed afterward there were some times I was not as mindful as I could have been. So, let’s look at some specific characteristics of unmindful discourse, which may be red flags for us to watch…

Data Dump
One of our tendencies when in less mindful discourse, is to be so anxious to get all of our views out that we go on and on without stop. This gives little time for listeners to ask for clarifications or, more importantly, to even follow and consider what we are saying properly. This happens because we imagine that making the others know our point, or see our full position ‘right now’ is more important than it is. Buddhism is one philosophy that helps us with such ego-driven behaviors. In any case, this impatience and/or urge to dominate is a sign we are not being mindful in our conversation.

Revving on the Start Line
This is when another person is speaking and we are simply waiting for our next opportunity to speak, as though we were a runner on the starting line of a race, waiting for the gun shot. During this time, we are not living in the present because we are not appreciating the value of what the other person is saying. We are also not being very considerate. Both of these facts will hamper our ability to connect with the conversant.

One-Way Traffic
Have you ever had a discussion with someone, and noticed that they never seem to ask what you think or elicit your thoughts? We have all probably done this before. It is often assumed that both sides will throw their lot into the mix, but this isn’t always the case – especially if they don’t feel welcome. We can always learn from others, so it is helpful to ask them what they think. And then, most importantly, really stop and consider it deeply.

Jumping the Gun
This act of impatience and assumption is when we hear the first few bits of what a person is saying, and then assume we know what the rest of their sentence or point will be. Often we may interrupt them, which ramps up the volley of exchanges and lowers mindfulness. But even when we bit our tongue, the internal assumption often turns off our true listening, and puts us into ‘Revving on the Start Line’ mode (see above).

Pigeonholing
This is similar to ‘Jumping the Gun’ but here, we imagine we know the other person’s entire viewpoint, in addition to many other views unconnected to their statements. We do this because we imagine whole packages of positions to be a part of larger general ‘types’ of people. But all too often, people aren’t like the stereotypes we imagine. And, just because they have a view on one position, doesn’t mean we can assume we know their other positions. Stoicism teaches us that judgments we make connect to values and labels and these can often blind us to the realities before us.

Planting Seeds in Infertile Soil
Sometimes our enthusiasm or desires may encourage us to force our views down others’ throats. We end up banging our heads against a wall because the other person is simply not ready or willing to be open to the views we are sharing. It is in this time that teachings such as the Taoist Wu Wei (effortlessness) can be helpful. Here, we move with the flow of things – in this case, we act in conjunction with the current disposition and nature of the conversant. If they aren’t ready or willing to give some things a fair hearing, we are patient and accept that it is not the right place or time, or that more productive approaches may be possible.

As we read the above, let us not consider this list in the light of “all the things other conversants have done to us”. While those times may elicit emotions which cause them to stand out in our memories, we cannot control what others do, and certainly cannot control the past. Instead, let us consider the above in terms of our thoughts and actions. That is what we control, and where our concern should lie if we are to make progress on our path.

These instances may be good reminders for us to check our motivations. Often, when we are not mindful, we end up having discussions for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps our real intention is to show off, or to ‘be right’. Perhaps we are trying to belittle the other person. Perhaps we have an inner need to assert our ego. Instead of ‘winning’ as a debate might encourage, mindful discourse happens for completely different reasons. Instead, the goal is to share ideas and learn from one another. By suspending harsh judgments or assumption or interjecting or comparative-contrasting language for a time, we are more able to listen deeply and consider that which we may have not considered before. We are more able to see through the other person’s eyes and broaden our understanding. In mindful discourse, the ‘winners’ are those who come away with greater understanding than before – not those who have merely convinced others of their previous understanding.

Most of all, if we are wise we will remember that mindful discourse is compassionate discourse. It is important that we try to keep loving-kindness for all beings at the forefront of our consciousness as we discourse. Love for everyone involved in a conversation will keep our attitudes charitable, our tones inviting, and everything conducive to greater understanding and communication. Along the way, we may discover the extra dividend that our own faculties of empathy, patience, tolerance, and love are improved.

If you’d like to experiment with this practice, strangers could be considered the ‘easy level’ because there is a kind of ‘polite shell’ we are typically trained by our culture to have. For more advanced challenges, try this practice with close friends and family – the more emotionally invested you are in the topic, the more challenging this practice will be. If you’re not where you’d like to be with it, don’t be frustrated – compassion, patience, and forgiveness is something to show ourselves too. Just keep trying and focus on the present. In time you’ll get better at it!


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Spiritual Naturalist Drumming

Courtesy, Lisa Marie Bytheway.

Drumming is an ancient art that has played a ritualistic and spiritual role in different cultures all over the world. Drumming practitioners today may be most familiar with West African and Native American traditions, but there are many others – for example, Taiko drumming techniques from Japan. Why does drumming have a spiritual role in the lives of so many diverse cultures, and what role might it have for naturalists?

In the West at least, new spiritual movements have come to incorporate drumming methods and understandings from a variety of ‘mix-and-match’ influences. These customized ritual cocktails may vary in their accuracy and allegiance to historically accurate understandings; sometimes intentionally so. In many of these cases, members of the original cultures from which these practices sprang may find offense. So, as we proceed, we should do so with respect for original cultures and be careful that we don’t misrepresent them. Even with this approach, however, it should be noted that no amount of respect will prevent offense to some cultures that resent any appropriation of their customs. This is a more general concern with any perennial path such as ours, but we proceed as respectfully as possible while learning from others what we can. The format of drumming rituals varies, but we will primarily look at drumming circles, which have been popularly forming at events and in groups for many years.

Another concern for we, as naturalists, is that one will find a variety of interpretations as to the nature of spiritual drumming in literal terms. That is, there are many beliefs about what is happening with ‘energy’, healing, bodily centers, and so on. We should not get too hung up on these particulars, as there will always be those with a variety of beliefs. Agreement on these matters is not essential and we should approach them with tolerance while staying true to our own path, which includes a humble approach to knowledge and claims; without the need to force that discipline on others. Mainly, just as we do when reading ancient philosophy, we must be capable of seeing past differences to connect with underlying themes and wisdom, rather than being reactionary to anything we may not agree with and miss an entire area of human activity and its potential benefits. So, some charity is advisable. This would be true even for non-naturalists, each of whom will have their own differences of belief. The famous physicist Richard Feynman is one example of a naturalist who saw great benefits in drumming. So, let us consider these benefits.

Individual

Native American drumming.
(cc) terren in Virginia, Flickr.com.

At the simplest level, drumming is fun. This alone can justify it for anyone, naturalist or not. And, there is additionally an argument to be made for simple fun activity as a healthy part of a spiritual life. But considering some further aspects of drumming beyond simple fun can be intriguing and helpful.

The National Aboriginal Health Organization (NAHO) conducted a series of interviews and collected practitioner journal reports to get a sense of what Aboriginal women practitioners experienced in hand drumming rituals. The general consensus was positive, as one might expect. Some reported their heart rates affected by the rhythm, helping them deal with stress, relaxing and releasing tension. Some even reported finding the activity helpful in dealing with addictions. They generally reported that it helped them maintain a positive outlook on life.

Of course, more research can only help illuminate these effects, but Spiritual Naturalists are encouraged to do their own first-person research, seeing for themselves the effects of participation. Practice, as we have stated, is about more than academic third-person study.

Community

African drumming.
(cc) ehpien, Flickr.com.

Obviously, the communal nature of drum circles tends to help participants learn to be in synch with one another in their drumming. This synchronicity can lead to a greater sense of cooperation. Indeed, many armies from all over the world have, prior to modern communications, used drumming to coordinate soldiers on the battlefield and in training. Not only does the rhythm indicate a pace and type of action, but the emotional nature of hearing the drums helped to coordinate their emotions, adrenalin, and attitudes.

Obviously, this kind of alignment of neural activity can benefit more than a group of soldiers for purposes of war. It can also be used positively to engender a sense of close community for other constructive purposes. In a drum circle, all players are considered equal, regardless of ability and this too has a psychological effect on our relationship with the whole.

Deeper

All of the preceding has been rather utilitarian or even dry so far; speaking of entertainment, physical effects, and community building. These are worthy things in their own right, but for many, drumming is much deeper and more profound than these dry descriptions can do justice. As even a basic practitioner, I can attest to this, as well as the fact that such is the case even within a purely naturalistic path.

Japanese Taiko drumming.
(cc) Indaia Cultural, Flickr.com.

Watching a self-conscious drummer attempt the art is telling. Here, we see that successful drumming requires a kind of ‘handing over’ of some control and self-consciousness. The analytical side of us, when attempting to helm the ship in drumming, can’t pull it off. This is because drumming requires a real-time response. The analytical mind is thinking to itself, “ok, is it time for the next beat now? Now? Now? –ok Now!” and by the time the hand moves to hit the drum, it is already too late. The conscious judgmental mind is getting in the way. It’s too busy thinking about the beat. This is not unlike the folk tale about the centipede, when asked how it manages to coordinate all those legs to walk, suddenly loses the ability when it stops to think about it.

This is significant because the ‘uptight person’ must go through a kind of learning process to ‘let go’ in order to really enjoy the spiritual benefits of drumming. Here, the hand must already be moving to the drum and must strike it confidently at the right moment, without the conscious pre-confirmed knowledge that everyone else will, in fact, follow through with a strike. The dilemma might remind us of the funny example of the person who yells something embarrassing to a friend in the middle of a loud party, just as everyone happens to go silent, making their statement far more noticeable than intended. For all we know, everyone might place the beat in some other place or stop drumming, leaving the self-conscious person whacking a loud drum all by themselves – the horror!

This is somewhat like those exercises in trust, where someone falls backward letting another catch them. We must have a kind of faith that others (or the music) will go along with us in this beat we feel – we can’t wait for confirmation before proceeding or we will fail. It is not difficult to imagine what this might have to teach naturalists who are used to relying on their intellects and on evidence. It says something about the nature of dealing with reality as it is; often messy, incomplete, and often requiring action without all the answers.

Courtesy, Lisa Marie Bytheway.

It forces us to get to know ourselves – to learn to trust our instincts, our ways of sensing and acting in a complex environment intuitively and skillfully. This, in fact, could be considered an apt metaphor for what Taoists refer to as ‘skillful means’ in life. It is this kind of internalization and alteration of our direct responses that we seek in living more consistently with nature and our nature as rational/moral beings. This can potentially shift our attitude in ways that enable us to apply this perspective in other places in our life.

And as we become more accustomed to entering this state of mind, we learn to free ourselves from self consciousness, which could be an aspect of being constrained by the delusions of the ego. We enter that trancelike state of pure experience; without labels; without judgments, and the fictions they often impose upon us. This is, of course, a meditative state, with similar (though not identical) benefits and uses in our spiritual practice. It is also an example of flow which is being more appreciated lately as a source of contentment and happiness in life.

And, it is in this altered state of consciousness, that we can become perceptive to things we often overlook. As we give up part of that control, and we trust others to fill in the beats alongside us simultaneously, a network activity builds between these coordinated nervous systems. We begin to operate as a single neurological system, in every way that matters from an information-processing standpoint. This creates a profound sense of shared interconnectedness with others in the group. Importantly, this is not just a ‘feeling’, but it is a deep perception of an external truth: that we are, in fact, interconnected with one another in deeper ways than we are typically conditioned to appreciate or capable of directly perceiving.

As the famous jazz musician John Coltrane said, “All a musician can do is get closer to the sources of nature, and so feel that he is in communion with the natural laws”. Drumming, like any practice, may not be for everyone, but it is this very real and very natural enhanced perception that makes drumming a potential source of spiritual transformation.

It is not, then, too far a stretch for our minds to begin extending this perception of interconnectedness toward other people beyond the drum circle, toward all beings, and toward the universe as a whole. This has implications for cultivation of empathy and compassion and for our value systems, and for the actions that result from them.


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The Spiritual Naturalist Society works to spread awareness of spiritual naturalism as a way of life, develop its thought and practice, and help bring together like-minded practitioners in fellowship.

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Special thanks to Donna Alldredge, Lisa Fischer, Tom Brucia, and Ellis Arseneau for directing me toward resources and for their input, to Lisa Marie Bytheway for the photos, and to NAHO for their paper on hand drumming, and to the Drumming in the Spirit of Harmony Facebook group for their support.

A New (old) Skepticism

Pyrrho, often referred to as
the first Skeptic philosopher.

Skeptics have often been accused of being cynical, negative, etc. They will (quite appropriately) correct us that skepticism is not the same as cynicism – always about denying or a denial that we can reasonably know anything. While skeptics might reject certain claims on the basis of lacking or contradictory evidence, skepticism also includes the acceptance of claims on that same basis. Skepticism can be a good thing because it is the opposite of gullibility and fuzzy thinking.

So, that’s skepticism as the skeptics know it. But this article is titled ‘A New Skepticism’ because I’m about to discuss how Spiritual Naturalists do skepticism…

In the above there is some overlap with many of the ancient philosophies that might inspire various forms of spiritual naturalism. The Buddhist Kalama Sutra instructs us not to accept claims merely on the basis of authority, faith, tradition, or even our own musings – but rather because we have experimented and observed from that experience that it is true. In the West, the ancient Greek philosophers were creatures of reason. Although the modern scientific method would not be forged for several centuries to come, the elements of it comprised the way these thinkers approached knowledge. Through observation and reason they made their way – not by faith. Therefore, we spiritual naturalists have good cause to embrace a healthy skepticism.

But, unfortunately, some criticism of those who call themselves skeptics, and of skeptic communities, may be more difficult to shake. For those who are merely skeptics, or those who appear so due to their focus on this one value, an impression of being negative, inconsiderate, disrespectful, snobbish, or even brutish may arise. While the skeptic may be a perfectly fine person, this impression arises in the same way it might arise if we were to take any one value and emphasize it at the expense of other values which are meant to exist in balance. Further, much of this depends on the style in which skepticism is often promoted, and the motivation for doing so.

So, what is the spiritual naturalist approach to skepticism, and how does it differ from mere skepticism?

Naturalism is about more than just love of nature. It includes a reverent recognition of all things as a part of nature. And, it includes an approach to knowledge that cultivates the naturalist view. But, rather than talking about empiricism as some kind of key to perfect knowledge or as a superior possession to that of anyone else, the Spiritual Naturalist approach is different. Our aim is to envision and discuss this approach in terms of one of the many virtuous character traits we aim to cultivate in ourselves – namely, to see it through the lens of humility.

This is why I prefer to speak of “a humble approach to knowledge and claims”. I don’t talk about your beliefs – I don’t know your experience. Rather, what I can say is that when I make a claim my personal practice is to limit what I take to be true to that for which I can provide or reference some kind of external evidence. Importantly, this also includes refraining from claiming the opposite – that x is false – without sufficient evidence. This path is one of recognizing and emphasizing my own limitations of experience and my own limitations in ability to know all things (certainly including the greater secrets of existence).

Thus, rather than using this approach as a weapon to scrutinize or dissect the beliefs of others, I say to myself that this is a practice I have chosen to undertake and look more often to the mirror, asking myself if I am living it well. Often, I have found it helpful to refer to this discipline by an ancient term, Epoché (eh-POK-ay), to help maintain an attitude about it as being a sacred practice. In our member’s section, we have an article that discusses Epoché in more detail.

More generally, another big difference is that Spiritual Naturalists are concerned about many values beyond just epistemology. Here we try to show, by living example, that practice. Let us live in ways more centered on increasing compassion, mindfulness, kindness, helping others, forgiveness, mercy, self-discipline, and encouraging it more in the world. Let us proceed with a confidence that, when not being insulted or threatened, free human minds will tend toward reason in their own time and way.

When the impulse arises to criticize others’ beliefs, let us turn that energy toward projecting love and understanding – and that includes refraining even from the passive aggressive kind of comparative phrasing. When a person leaves an encounter with a Spiritual Naturalist, the difference should be obvious and perhaps even striking. This is the noblest goal of a rational being that recognizes that the value of even reason itself rests on the primacy of compassion. And, it is this – not tedious argumentation – that will peak the interest of others to want to know what this rational spirituality is all about.

But this cannot merely be some PR (public relations) tactic. Remember that the focus of Spiritual Naturalist practice is greater happiness and flourishing, and only personal transformation can accomplish this. This is why our true inner motivation and mindset should be one of concern for others. That this approach also spreads both compassion and reason in the world (often more effectively) is a wonderful bonus.

Sometimes, of course, sharing information may be integral to compassion, especially if we think it can help others. But here we must check that this is the true motivation, and not egotism. When it comes to sharing beliefs with others, we remind ourselves that Truth is sacred to the rational being and a powerful thing (that is, importantly, assuming that what we possess is Truth). If so, then we also recognize: that which is sacred and powerful should not be thrown about carelessly or dispensed without consideration. Truth best flows where the landscape naturally cradles its rivers. One does not take the waters of truth and flood crops and villages, so to speak. Here, we combine rationality with the wise practice the Taoists refer to as Wu Wei.

We also realize that Truth, devoid of compassion, can be abusive and vicious. This is why we don’t try to plant seeds in infertile soil. Instead, patience, reservation, love for those with whom we converse, and humility in our assumptions about our own knowledge are the hallmarks of a practicing Spiritual Naturalist.


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What is Spiritual Transformation? (Pt 2 of 2)

This is the second of a 2-part series on spiritual transformation (link to part 1). After the article (below) we continue with an audio conversation between DT Strain and B.T. Newberg of HumanisticPaganism.com…

A snake or serpent, which can shed it’s old skin, often represents
transformation. (cc) Neil Henderson.

Is Extraordinary Transformation Possible?

Granted, a more modest model of progress is essential, and perfection is most likely impossible. However, my experience in practice leads me to believe that, once one achieves a state similar to even an ambitious realistic model, once will tend to find that further improvement remains possible. This results in the limits of human transformative potential being surprisingly further than we may be willing to believe at the start of our practice, if we are disciplined and patient. We might call this extraordinary transformation; a kind that truly shifts our ‘root operating impulses’.

It is reasonable to ask whether this kind of transformation is possible. We may notice that spiritual leaders, who are supposed to be the exemplars of a practice, may often seem to have many of the same faults as anyone else. But I think it is a mistake to look toward leaders in evaluating the transformative potential of spiritual practice. The chief reason for this is that there is a distinction between the organizations of spirituality and spiritual practice. Spiritual practice is a deeply person thing which is about working on the person in the mirror. Only you have the ability to know if this is your true intent, and more importantly, only you have the ability to measure its results and progress. By contrast an organization, even the best of them, is a project of human inter-activity that focuses on external conditions by its nature. It is about actions in the world and seeking certain results (even if those desired results are more people engaged in personal practice). As someone who works in the Spiritual Naturalist Society for example, I must always be aware that my activity for the Society is not the same as my personal practice, or a substitute for it.

This distinction has real consequences when it comes to the distinction between people who become leaders in an organization and those who employ the practices for which those organizations stand. Very often, we will find that leaders of an organization do not practice its tradition as well as some. In fact, they can often be extremely poor examples; especially if they confuse their success as an organizational leader with success in their own walk. At the same time, many of the most successful and advanced practitioners may be on the outside of organized activity, as they may have chosen to focus their time and attention on their practice rather than on publications, promotions, events, giving talks, etc. So, this lack of correlation between leaders in organized traditions and differences in character should not be surprising and is not an indication that transformation is not real or possible.

Lastly, judging a practice by its practitioners also suffers because it is inherently impossible to measure a practitioners’ inner experience. Two people may come to work every day, smile, treat others in similar ways, and so on. Yet, one of them is deeply happy in life and the other one faces internal struggles. The extreme example of suicides that come as a complete surprise to friends and family illustrate this harshly, but more subtle and common examples abound. This is why the first-person experience is crucial: each of us must experiment for ourselves the effects of these practices on our deeper happiness and well-being.

Experience

While the scientific approach deals with objective reality from a third-person perspective, and spiritual practice is about cultivating first-person subjective states, the two are neither inherently at odds nor lacking in overlap. The kind of spiritual practice I’ve been describing is not one of faith-based belief. Rather, it is one whereby the practitioner is placed in the role of experimenter.

The Buddhist Kalama Sutra instructs the practitioner not to believe or accept something because of tradition, authority, scripture, superstition, etc. but because they have experienced for themselves whether it is true and effective. Both the scientific method and this kind of instruction overlap in placing experience and experiment at the center of acceptance of claims. Note that the latter case is different from an external experiment on the brain activity of meditators or the like. Because we are talking about cultivating individual subjective experience, each practitioner must conduct experimentation from inside their own private mental laboratory to confirm efficacy. Because all persons and brains vary, we should expect to see some variability in which kinds of practices have superior results – and because we share many traits we should expect to see many commonalities as well. This kind of procedure is not altogether foreign to science. For example, research on pain medication must include the subjective reports of subjects because pain, though it has physical correlates, is also a subjective experience.

And so it is from experience that I, and many others, can report that spiritual transformation of the kind described above is not only possible, but profoundly life altering. Before I describe this in detail, let me first address the inevitable and valid skeptical question of (a) how this differs from the ad populum of testimony from many people about bigfoot, angels, or aliens, and (b) how this differs from the testimony of people who claim their subjective experience of God or Jesus is evidence of the objective existence of these beings.

Whether or not certain realms or entities exist is a claim about objective facts. But no matter how ‘convinced’ I am by a subjective experience, that alone can never be sufficient to prove and objective fact. For this, corroborating objective evidence must be demonstrable and sharable between others. This attempts to use a subjective experience to attempt to prove an objective fact.

In the case for spiritual transformation, however, the intended results are inherently subjective. Therefore subjective experience of them is sufficient to constitute knowledge of the result. If a practice makes me happier, more at peace, or more content, then the claim that the practice results in happiness is – for me – self evidently true. If the claim were, “Jesus makes me happy” this requires an intermediary external fact to be true (there is a living entity that exists who makes people happy). If, however, the claim is “belief in Jesus makes people happy” this can be supported or undermined by studies of reports of happiness compared to the corresponding belief. Likewise, the claim “meditation makes people more at peace” does not depend on an intermediary fact. That would be more akin to something like, “meditation pleases Buddha who lives on an immaterial plane, and blesses those who meditate with peace of mind” – which is certainly not the naturalist approach. The mention of the number of people reporting the same experience with spiritual practice is meant, not to lend weight to an objective claim, but to show a high consistency of subjective reports, suggesting the reader has a reasonable likelihood of similar experience with practices.

My (Continuing) Transformation

As with most of us, my transformation began with learning. My days of looking at philosophy as merely some intriguing academic mental exercise are long behind me, but this is how many of us innocently slip into discovering what lies deeper. Socrates always fascinated me, so it may have been inevitable that I would find my way to the later Socratic schools. The Epicureans are a favorite of Humanists, but it was Stoicism where I began to notice really amazing effects on my life. Even in some of my earliest stages of learning about Stoicism, I found that just a few ‘drops’ of it went a long way.

It wasn’t long before things I was reading about Taoism and Buddhism would begin to show fascinating overlaps and similarities. That began a multi-year process of comparative study whereby I would analyze their commonalities and their respective strengths. These were not mere collections of claims about the world or its creation, or proclamations of ethical edicts. They consisted of real insights into our minds and our lives. These insights made me reassess many things in my life and began to affect how I responded to them. Yet, all of this was mere intellectual learning, helpful though it had already proven.

Many of us have had what I call profound experiences (also known as ‘religious experience’ or ‘peak experience’). In Embracing A Natural Life I explained some things about profound experience (as far as I could with words), and in our member educational archives the Society has an essay specifically about the nature and function of profound experience.

These come in many forms and have many different effects for us. But without connection to some philosophic perspective, they can often mean little more than an awe-inspiring event – simple entertainment. Perhaps they are moving to us for mysterious reasons and before long we are back to our ordinary lives.

For me, as I continued to read, discuss, and learn, the occasional profound experience served as epiphanies that helped me on my way. They were direct perceptions of amazing truths about the nature of our world, the nature of my own mind, and the nature of life – things which I had already agreed to intellectually, and thought I’d understood. But until I had these experiences it didn’t really ‘sink in’. These kinds of experiences helped me to internalize certain bits of wisdom on a more intuitive level. The experiences and the learning fed off of one another. The learning helped spark the experiences; sometimes at unexpected moments. And, the experiences inspired me to investigate and learn more.

One of these profound experiences happened while reading about complex systems theory; another happened while listening to the birds awaking in the trees in the morning. More profound experiences happened on a plain, petting my cat, listening to music, sharing experiences with friends, seeing films, in solitude, at temple, and so on – each of them different, yet each helping to ‘grok’ that for which language is so often a poor vehicle.

Simple assent to intellectual concepts is not spiritual transformation. That happens only when the wisdom becomes a deep part of how we intuitively see the world and react to it (and the content of that wisdom is too much for the scope of this essay to seriously address). Profound experience is not the only way the intellectual becomes the intuitive, but it often can provide abrupt plateaus along the gradual transformative climb of transformation.

More common are the everyday practices that help to condition our perspectives and ways of being. Meditation is one of the more common and foundational of spiritual practices. Although I am by no means a master and still have much to learn, my experience with meditation has been remarkable. It has increased my focus, my mindfulness (of both my surroundings and internal states), and my peace of mind. These skills are essential to further spiritual practices. The effects I have experienced from meditation have led me to want to explore it further, but it takes time practicing regularly.

Many other practices and rituals have been very helpful and transformative for me. These include journaling, negative visualization, vision quests, drumming, mindful walking, and what I like to call demeanor practice. Each of these have specific purposes and, in the proper philosophic context, can affect deep change over time.

This change has been pronounced, and has had effects in my life. One odd consequence that has come to my attention recently is that I seem to no longer be capable of embarrassment or any other form of social anxiety. This may be a subset of a near absence of certain kinds of deep fears, in general. While I admit this is an extraordinary claim, and that I may be experiencing them at undetectable levels, that perception in itself is significant. There have also been some personality changes over time, which seem correlated to my intentions to shift in that direction.

During one period I had been specifically practicing in a manner designed to increase my empathy and compassion. After a time, I noticed I was having problems. It seems I had so changed my responses that I was experiencing disturbing levels of distress whenever I became aware of the suffering of others (including media reports, etc). I went to see a monk about this (since the practices I were employing had been Buddhist) and he informed me that there were other aspects to Buddhist thought I had been missing; namely wisdom, which is meant to balance compassion. Specifically, he meant the wisdom of non-attachment and the acceptance of impermanence. Thus began my process of moving toward greater balance. During these periods, it was not only my practices that changed in their general direction, but who I was had actually shifted over time, and in direct relation to a designed program.

The most notable example of transformation has been how much I was helped during the time my mother passed away. I explained this in more detail in the Embracing article, but in short I was fortified and sustained in ways that would not have been possible before. It was clear that I was not merely someone who had learned a few nifty ideas or techniques, but that I had become a different kind of being than the person I had been before – in my value systems, my responses, my reactions, etc. And, more importantly, the philosophic reading and learning would not have been enough to have affected me or my experience during that time. It was the practice that made the difference. The first of these surprising effects happened relatively early in my practice.

Today, I am coming into new challenges, such as concerns over becoming so different in character that I may seem too alien to relate well to others – an important thing for being supportive and doing good in the world. Even making public this concern may have the negative effect of sounding conceited, and surely I must caution myself against that. I am still very much a learner and still have my fair share of challenges and difficulties. Yet, I can’t deny that my practice has had an effect on how I see the world and how I relate to others who may not be on the same path (or, in some cases, any path). I mention this only to demonstrate how undeniable the reality of transformation is for me.

In fact, if profound spiritual transformation is not possible via naturalistic practice, then it is unclear why one would even engage in any spiritual tradition, other than seeking a community in the manner one might join a social club. Yet, my experience of this kind of transformation and the knowledge of what it can do for others is why the mission of the Spiritual Naturalist Society is so important.

Wisdom and the Role of Science

If we accept that self-directed transformation over time is possible, and that such transformation can result in deeper happiness, equanimity, inner fortitude, and so on; we may look to the next question. We might then ask, what exactly is the content of this wisdom we are supposed to internalize, and how do we know it is advice that results in the kind of change that will be most helpful?

Unfortunately, the past few centuries have set up a strange opposition between science and religion that does us a disservice – especially we naturalists who are looking for a meaningful spiritual practice. Even among Spiritual Naturalists, the culture has lead us to view science and religion or spirituality – even philosophy – as ‘non-overlapping magisteria’ at best, competitors at worst. But if we look to how all of this started out, we get a clearer picture of what’s going on.

Although the modern formalized scientific method did not emerge until the Enlightenment, there were certainly rational approaches to understanding our world many centuries before this. These rational approaches, though imperfect at times, often contained many elements of the scientific method. More importantly, these were approaches that valued experience, observation, logic, reason, and peer review (in the form of discourse). When Heraclitus spoke of the transformation of materials to and from one another, it is impossible not to think of him sitting alongside a river, carefully observing his environment. When Socrates debated the nature of the soul (mind) with Simmias, it is obvious from their arguments that these were men who were carefully considering observations they had made and the implications of those observations. One would not have gotten far with Socrates by proposing any knowledge on the basis of ‘faith’. The same can be said of the Buddha who, as I’ve mentioned, specifically rejected faith as a source of knowledge.

These thinkers approached the same universal struggles and torments we all face in life even today, and in their wisdom, arrived at many profound realizations. And, while they may have lacked much of the technical details, or even had many of them wrong, a surprising number of those realizations still hold remarkably true. This is why, for example, Stoicism was such an inspiration to modern cognitive therapeutic techniques.

Prior to the extreme specializations of today, philosophers were not only moral guides and logicians, they were scientists. In fact, no good philosopher would not be scientist and vice versa. It was not too long ago that science was referred to as ‘natural philosophy’. This makes sense when we consider that philosophy is the love of wisdom and wisdom must include the accurate collection of facts (though goes far beyond). Thus, any time we are asking: (1) what is, (2) what ought to be, or (3) how do we know those two things – we are doing philosophy. Religion is philosophy, science is philosophy, ethics is philosophy, logic is philosophy. It is all a part of ‘wisdom’ and its pursuit.

Later, some philosophers decided to focus on the ‘what is’ portion, and they became what we call scientists. Other philosophers decided to focus on ‘what ought to be’ and they became our ethicists and moral leaders. Still other philosophers focused on ‘how do we know’ and they became our mathematicians, logical analysts, linguists, and so on. Although each of these professionals needs to conduct themselves in their jobs such that the integrity of their respective methodologies are maintained, we as individuals have broader needs and concerns. The problem is that we’ve forgotten all of these folks are doing philosophy and all of this philosophy needs to play a role in our wisdom and our spiritual path if we are to be affective at achieving happiness.

When we realize the original role of philosophy, it should be clear that sciences such as social and cognitive psychology, for example, are not some new alternative to these traditions – they are the modern refinement and continuation of a centuries-long investigation. For instance, in Buddhism we are invited to learn more about how our minds work, and experience that through introspective observation in meditation and mindfulness. For the modern naturalistic Buddhist, the latest cognitive theories should inform our practice. As for methods of self-transformation, we are invited to experiment with these and studies on these methods are merely a continuation of the studies that have been conducted on practices by practitioners themselves since before we had a rigorous scientific method. A foundational integration of scientific knowledge and spiritual practice must be a distinctive characteristic of naturalistic spirituality if it is to be relevant and effective.

The Importance of a Sacred Approach

Yet, I should add a caution here regarding the role of science in our spiritual walk. While the technical terminologies and methodologies of science are critical for the integrity of its process and purposes (the ‘what is’ part of philosophy), there are two things of which we should be aware: (1) spiritual wisdom requires more than a collection of raw facts and theories, important though they are, and (2) the technical framing of these phenomena is not fully effective for cultivation of inner transformation.

By this, I mean that reading all the articles in all the scientific journals about practices, psychology, and happiness will never, on its own, result in spiritual transformation. Further, this is not due to a lack of scientific knowledge yet to be gained. If you had access to God’s library on Truth, you could come to memorize it all and this too would not result in spiritual transformation. At the same time, complete knowledge is not required for spiritual transformation, and is not a prerequisite to enlightenment.

As described, transformation of our character, disposition, perspectives, and responses comes not from intellectual knowledge, but from a series of rich experiences that penetrate many different aspects of our minds, emotions, memories, feelings, and so on. This is how the non-intuitive becomes the intuitive. These kinds of experiences happen naturally in life from time to time, and we can harness them if we have the proper wisdom on hand. But as I’ve mentioned, these are only signposts. The longer more enduring process of transformation comes from intentional participation in practices and rituals that facilitate deep experience of this nature. This means they need to have a moving aspect, and inspirational aspect, and so on. Technical language and mere knowledge are insufficient to generate such experience.

Further, the ‘third-person’ nature of scientific description is limited for these purposes, even if the data gained is illuminating and useful in its own way. Learning about the effects of meditation on a brain and why it has those effects will never be a substitute for meditating, and so it is with all other practices and rituals.

In our member archives, I have written an essay on what I call Sacred Tongue. There I make the case for the legitimacy of sacred and spiritual ways of framing the same facts – not merely as something to make us feel good. Rather, I argue for the legitimacy of this lexicon as a vehicle for truth, and communication of real aspects to phenomena that are not conveyed via technical lexicon. This is just one example of why a sacred/spiritual approach, as opposed to merely a technical psychological one, is important. Other important elements include music, physical procession, focal objects, human interaction, narratives, myth, iconography, and so on. This is what I mean when I speak of spiritual transformation and why it is relevant and central to a Spiritual Naturalist practice.

Thanks for reading. Below you can listen to a conversation between B.T. Newberg and myself that proceeds further into this topic…

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BONUS FEATURE:
A Conversation on Spiritual Transformation, with B.T. Newberg & DT Strain [1 hr 40 min].
To hear this audio discussion, please see the bottom of this article’s native page HERE.
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The Spiritual Naturalist Society works to spread awareness of spiritual naturalism as a way of life, develop its thought and practice, and help bring together like-minded practitioners in fellowship.
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Written by DT Strain. Many thanks to B.T. Newberg for his role in improving this content through lengthy discourse over email and voice. Thanks too, to the attendees of our local chapter in Houston for their valuable thoughts and input on this subject, and thanks to Patti for mentioning snakes as representing transformation.