So, it’s got to be something that appears obvious in hindsight. Of that I have no doubt. Still, for the first person to figure it out it could be a different kettle of fish. Breaking new ground might not be so straightforward a task for that lucky fellow, because the meme, however simple and easy it is at its base, must at the same time be a whopper. Undoubtedly it will be all-encompassing in scope—an oak in a nutshell. Landing it could take some effort.
And so what do you say? Do you feel inclined to join in? Let’s saddle up and start our search. Tally ho, on with the hunt!
In the pursuit of our quarry, I’m expecting to cover a lot of ground. There’s the whole wide world web to explore. We’re bound to trespass across the odd jealously-fenced field. We’re likely to step on a few toes and punch a fair number of noses out of joint. People with a vested interest in various ideologies—I allude here to religion, cosmology, philosophy, ethics, human nature, sociology and so forth—are liable to be offended. That can’t be helped; you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. So are you up for some rough-and-tumble?
If I had my way, any world-changing idea worth its salt would lick the boxes of a long list of interconnected concerns (see Appendix 1 for the entire list). For my money, it would need to address questions such as:
- Is there a meaning to life?
- What is death?
- Is there such a thing as reincarnation?
- Is there an afterlife?
- Is there a God in charge—and what sort of a job does she think she’s doing?
- Does my dear sweet pet have a soul?
- What is the nature of good and evil?
- What is the essence of time?
- Is the universe, like diamonds, forever?
- Is there a ‘right’ religion—one that we’re meant to follow and never ever question?
- How does love fit into the picture? (Were the Beatles right?)
- What is sex for, and is it okay? (Again, see under Beatles.)
- What merit, if any, does there lie in abstaining from alcohol, drugs, meat and tobacco? (Linda? Yoko?)
- Are humans really at the top of the pole?
- What should I, personally, do with my life?
- Do I have an assigned role, or am I free to please myself? Should people act ‘selfishly’, or is it better to devote ourselves to the lives of others?
- Is happiness in itself an admirable goal?
- Is there such a thing as free will?
- Is everything predetermined, or can we change the future?
- Why do wars, poverty, starvation and terrorism exist, and what can we do about them?
- Isn’t it a waste of time and effort to try to save the world?
- If there is a higher power, why doesn’t he, she or it appear to give a damn?
- Does anyone really know what it’s all about, or are we all just floundering in the dark?
- Is there a mountaintop guru that we can approach for help?
- Is it even possible to become enlightened?
- If so, where’s the manual?
‘If you ever meet the Buddha on the road, kill him,’ goes the expression. What do you make of it? My guess is that it’s about the danger of exposing yourself to the teachings of would-be well-wishers, do-good gurus and proselytizing pimps. Killing the Buddha is therefore a pre-emptive strike. There’s nothing more dangerous than ideas, so be alert for them popping up on your radar. Echoing Feynman’s father, the Buddha told his followers: “Believe nothing. No matter where you read it, or who said it, even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and common sense.”
Using another analogy, it works like your taste in music and musicians. In that field an idea could be thought of as a riff or lyric. Now, there’s a set of artists each of us feels comfortable with and close to. For me it’s the Doors, Jimi Hendrix and Jethro Tull. In my book they can do no wrong. Then, there’s a group that I admire but who I can’t listen to all day long: The Beatles, U2 and Oasis. And below that there are other artists that I simply cannot groove to such as Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan and Van Morrison, even though they are highly esteemed. For some reason, they grate in my ears. So, what’s my point, and what’s the answer?
What it means is that everyone has a potential audience (and ipso facto a potential following). Second, everyone has to judge for themselves what sounds right. To ask, ‘Who is right?’ expecting to get a definitive answer, is . . . well . . . wrong. It’s the sort of quandary that you get into when you ask the same question about religions. There isn’t one that stands unarguably higher. It’s best to assume that, at their level, and from their perspective, every one is on track. Whether any set of ideas resonates with you is just a matter of taste.
A person's background, beliefs, world view, philosophical framework, and the stories that they tell themselves all support one another. They form a self-referential whole. A person’s decisions and actions make sense only when we realize that fact. And so, everyone is absolutely correct with respect to the views that they hold and the manner in which they conduct themselves.
Of course, that isn't much help to you. You’ll want want a means of being more discerning when you rake through the embers of other philosophies on the lookout for material to incorporate into your own way of thinking.
It’s probably best, therefore, to examine, not the set of thoughts that people have, but the principles that they are built on—the truths that they hold to be self-evident. Based upon that knowledge—a familiarity with the foundation stones underpinning their philosophical structures—you have a much better rationale for weighing up what they have to say.
In the same way that you pick and choose your friends, you need to be wise when you shop for advice. Though everyone has something valuable to contribute, you gravitate naturally towards certain individuals, and that probably says something about the relationship—or potential relationship—between you both (although I’m not sure exactly what).
This affinity that you or I feel—well, the ideal, I suppose, is that everything that you learn issues forth from within. It should not be spoon fed. People in the self-growth movement say that the answers are latent within us all, and that the most that they do is to help those answers bubble forth.
Take note, all you other gorillas. As you read these words, you’d better take that message to heart. As far as you’re concerned, I fall into that category also. My style of mental gymnastics suits me to a tee. But all you other primates had better use a filter. Get out your sun block and UV sunglasses.
Frankly, I don’t believe in anything. I don’t ‘believe’, full stop.
By definition, when you believe in something, you hold something to be true regardless of any contrary evidence. In fact, the stronger the evidence against your belief, the more tightly you clutch fast to it, as if this is some sort of test of faith. “Dumb, dumb and dumber,” say I.
Only a dope elects to close off her mind against any future change or growth. Why do so? Is it to stave off the discomfort of having to amend one’s worldview? Is it to hold at bay the unease of being uncertain? The Nobel Prize-winning scientist, Richard Feynman, a gentleman that I have a lot of time for, loved to be in a position of not knowing. It spurred him on in his inquiries and made life interesting for him.
To me, investing ‘faith’ in some authority figure’s story is nothing but a cop-out, I've always felt. The only thing that prepackaged philosophical narratives offer is a ready-made excuse not to think for oneself, but then you give up that power to some group, or to a theocracy.
So I will not ‘believe’. I won’t blindly accept any unsubstantiated proposition (which is not to say that I’m materially-minded, and that I limit my thinking to objects that I can sense, or that I confine myself to musing upon the mind-figments derived from logical and philosophical machinations). All I’m saying is that to kow-tow willy-nilly to any historical or mythological celebrity is not my scene. I don't swallow any particular line, and I don't expect you to swallow all that I say either.
But I do believe that you’ll find pearls of wisdom most anywhere. That said, here’s where I do my version of a literature review, and mention a few influences on my thinking. But before I do so, I’ll offer a word of warning.
It’s certainly true that I have benefited from reading what others have to say, but that has mostly been supplementary. Ultimately, I'm accountable to myself only. I must use the manner and style of thinking that suits me best. Just like Feynman, for the most part, I’ve felt it necessary to isolate myself from others' philosophies. I didn't want to risk being steered off track.
The third thought experiment I’ll narrate is what I consider the formative experience of my life. It occurred when I was about eleven. At school during playtime one day, a classmate demonstrated how by hyperventilation and applied thoracic pressure you could induce loss of consciousness. No! Was that possible? Wasn’t it dangerous?
I hung back for a day or two and watched the more adventurous step forward. They were duly put to sleep . . . and then, after a minute or two, woken up again. It didn’t seem too big a deal. Eventually I too took the plunge. I even repeated the experience. No big deal, indeed. It only changed my life forever.
The effect that unconsciousness had on me was to snap a link, a link in the chain that had held me bound to earth. Previously, I’d always assumed—and this is the perspective that society reflects back at you—that we are physical beings with a spiritual add-on. But, after venturing into internal nether regions, I discovered that my perceptions had subtly altered, and that things were no longer as they’d been.
I returned to find my world had changed. This was most disconcerting. Somehow I was now reduced to a state of semi-consciousness. I couldn’t shake myself awake to the same degree that I remembered. It made me worry that I’d lost some brain cells (which could be true). But recently I’ve gained a greater understanding.
What happened, I now surmise, is that after having ‘lost’ my body—and yet retained my awareness of self (whilst unconscious)—I realized that, instead of the body containing me, I contained it. Far out!
It had dawned on me that I could not be contained or constrained. Rather, I-as-an-essence contained the physical body. I now see myself as a spiritual being having a physical experience. Evidently, the trip of self-induced unconsciousness triggered a form of near-death experience. And just as the NDE crowd are forever affected by their experiences with bright lights, tunnels and celestial guardians, I also was marked. And that brings us—I can’t skirt around it any longer—to the subject of religion.
Religion, hey? Well, I’m not going to shy away from the subject. I’ll do my (Sunday) best to address it, because I believe (pardon the word) that it’s important for you, dear reader, to know my position. Do I have a bias one way or the other? Am I from the Richard Dawkins camp, or am I a card-holder of some other Salvation Army?
As a child, my parents never dragged me along to church by, thank God. They didn’t impose that Sunday ritual on their children. In that respect, my siblings and I were left to our own devices. We enjoyed unadulterated freedom (is there a pun in that?), and it was only my school friends who would sometimes invite me along.
And I did. I went along to several encounter groups run by hip teachers in the hope of making friends—never easy for me. These were run along faintly evangelical lines, but I did my best to ignore that. I took part in what looked interesting, sat out on what looked suspicious, and endured the rest as best as I could.
But that faint biblical hiss in the background kept my hackles at the ready. Things came to a head one weekend when the teenagers’ group that I attended was ‘ushered’ into the church next door. Some sort of service going on.
Meekly I submitted with the rest. There was no time to voice a protest. As we trooped on over, I felt we’d been conned, but what can you do?
I sat there on a pew, listening critically. So we all have this personal relationship with God, do we? How to know for sure? I decided to put the sucker to the test. As others traipsed up for their sip and a nibble, I stuck fast to my seat. I socked God with an ultimatum. ‘Right man, I’ll give you one chance. Give me a sign that you’re up there. That’s all you need to do, and I’ll go along with this charade. All I ask for is a sign.’
And then I waited . . .
To me, original sin doesn’t make sense. Neither does the notion of a vengeful and jealous god. But it does make sense that everything could be predestined. Those atoms that they told us about at school ought to keep a-rolling in whichever direction they are pushed.
And yet, how was it that I was able to do as I pleased? Though their direction was determined, I seemed to be able to boss my own atoms around. I could only conclude that this was due to some sort of paradox. It probably had to do with ‘levels’. Free will probably existed on one level and not on another—something like that. Whatever, I was happy to bide my time until I could see more of the total picture, so I went away to work on my X-ray vision.
Would you believe that I once called myself a Selective-apathy-active-fatalist-ego-theist? The atoms rolling slash being rolled represented the ‘active-fatalist’ component, which I’ve already outlined.
The ‘selective-apathy part comes from my conviction that you can’t do or be everything. That’s important to who I am and how I live. If you want to do something really well and devote yourself to it, then you won’t have time for much else. Therefore, if you want to make the best use of your life, then it behooves you to choose wisely. You are going to have to practice discrimination—or apathy—so as not to become embroiled in unnecessary and diversionary activity.
You see, the more options you have, the more difficult life is. It is actually easy to live as a fanatic and be devoted to one goal. Contrast that to juggling a balance of interests, activities and pursuits. Perhaps I appear indecisive, but that’s so that I can keep my options open. I drop one thing for another only when the time is ripe.
As for the ‘ego-theist’ component, the idea of being one’s own god was an act-as-if decision. All that I could be sure of was that I existed; I wasn’t sure about anyone else, and as for God . . . well, He certainly hadn’t fronted up when challenged. And when that occurred (or didn’t) then I thought I might as well act as if I was in charge. I’d do the honors and play emcee. If and when a higher power came along, I’d gladly yield my superior the floor. Can’t say fairer than that.
When I close my eyes, I can get into a state that I’m all that there is (I’d been initiated into Transcendental Meditation as a teenager). Everything 'outside' is then a figment of my imagination. Oh sure, I knew full well that at the same time that I was also hopelessly limited as an individual being—the second of that trio of childhood thought experiments. But the bottom line is that I’ve never felt the need to install any god figure at the head of a personal ideology.
As I said at the outset, I shy away from—in fact I shun—any system of thinking that claims to be superior to the rest: Philosophy, Scientific Method, Religion and the like. Yes, I will use them, but not exclusively. I’d rather to go for the grok. An idea has got to sit right, feel right, and heft nicely in a way that I can accept totally. It’s like when you test an unknown plant to see if it is edible; you rub it on your skin or hold it in your mouth to see if it provokes an allergic reaction. If it doesn’t, then you proceed a little further.
The scientific way, they say, to verify or disprove a hypothesis is by carrying out replicable work. Instead, I choose to perform thought experiments. They are cheap, quick, and they work. What I’d like to do is to walk you through a few that I’ve conducted. We’ve already looked at three, from which I concluded:
1. I am immortal
2. I am very, very special . . . yet utterly limited
3. I am not confined to my body
Quite a heady philosophical brew for a boy not yet in his teens, wouldn’t you agree?
I’ll now dig out a few more, re-examine their results, and build from there. We’ll see what the consequences and corollaries are. Finally, I’ll describe what I deduce as their implications, and maybe close off with a question and answer session. How does that sound?
Though this seems like a logical and sensible plan, it’ll be messy. I can’t lead you along a well-thought out progression. Along my path there are no easy, clear-cut steps. There isn’t a wheelchair-accessible slope that leads you to a coherent and comprehensive (and comprehensible) overview. My history isn’t like that. It is still being written, in fact, as I write.
The order of these thought experiments will be roughly chronological, but they do not work seamlessly. I don’t have a firm, fixed destination, and I don’t have much of a game plan. I engage in this exercise for myself as much as for others, so I share your curiosity about what will develop. A machete? Yes, we might need one. Bring it along.
Anyway, I hadn’t meant to blather on about God, religion and the like. There’s nothing worse for turning people off. Pepper religious words throughout your tome, and potential readers will discard your work in droves (I tell you, I play with fire). If you’re anything like me, you’ll harbor a healthy aversion to religion in any shape, manner or form. If that is so, then please accept my apologies.
However, if I’m to present a meaningful philosophy of life then I can’t in all honesty avoid bumping shoulders with the big boys. Apart from the study of Philosophy—is that quaint subject still taught?—organized religions have more-or-less cornered the market, and so to some extend there’s a need for me to intrude on their patch and bandy swords with the bastards.
As far as religions go, I must be blunt. No more beating about the bush. This may sound shocking, but it has got to be said. Every religion is miles wide of the mark. I tell you, the Jesuses, Mohammeds and Buddhas of this world may have been well-meaning, but they were neophytes.
And in the next few lines I’ll prove it.
From a very early age I’ve had a moth-like fascination for this thing called religion. Circling at a distance so as not to singe my wings, I observed my elders. Were they addled? Why would they turn off their brains and believe such fantasies? I pondered such questions at the age of six. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that that my instincts were truly perceptive.
Religions are damnably dangerous. All of them are cults. I can say this categorically because not one of them, not a single world model addresses a couple of essential existential features, and that shortcoming shows that they are seriously deficient.
First, no religion explains the real nature of the relationship between us and God (and with each other). All that stuff about neighbors, treating each other as brothers and sisters, who is in my family and who is not, this tribe and that tribe, the chosen people, Good Samaritans, turning your cheek seven times seven . . . It may seem as is the matter is being dealt with, but this isn’t not so. There’s a far more intimate involvement between all forms of life that organized religions have no inkling of and can't hint at.
And that would be enough to damn them. However, the second deficiency is even more damning. It is this: No system of belief addresses the nature of time. None of them explains how time operates. That understanding is crucial. Unless you have it, you can’t read any meaningful pattern into the warp and woof of the universe.
