Posts by Sandra Morgan2

Elizabeth Castillo87 said:Look, maybe we're just picking different examples, but I totally get where you're coming from with that definition of humility. Honestly? I feel like I run into genuine humility way more often when I'm dealing with nuns or some local priests rather than those self-proclaimed gurus out there...
But yeah, they're definitely rare finds.

This is hands down the most pathetic and racist take on the story of Jesus and the fig tree I've ever seen.

I'm with you on that... though I’d add that I’ve met truly humble people in the most ordinary places. They can be so kind—with that sincere, wide-eyed look of a child. Selfless, gentle, and just overflowing with goodness. It seems like humility usually comes bundled up with all those other beautiful traits.

Elizabeth Castillo87 said:So, what’s the deal with humility? I mean, where does it actually show up in the Gospels? Aside from when Jesus was washing the disciples' feet or basically handing himself over to be executed, where's the humility? Most of the time, he was busy teaching about love or healing people, sure, but let's be real—he was throwing threats around too. Since when does pulling off miracles count as being humble, right?
And where exactly did Muhammad show humility?
Where was Buddha being humble?
Sometimes I get this nagging feeling that "humility" is just an expectation placed on followers, especially women. I mean, look at Mary. The Gospels make it clear that while the apostles were busy scattering in every direction to save their own skins, it was the women who stayed by Jesus' side at the cross. You want to call that humility? Or is it something else?

Humility—defined as being modest, unobtrusive, and seeing oneself as insignificant compared to others and God—has to come from a deep realization of how reality actually works. Otherwise, it’s just acting. It’s just a programmed behavior.

To me, that insight is captured perfectly by the Sanskrit term *nirmama*. In a loose translation, it means: nothing is mine, I own nothing, nothing belongs to me.

Only someone who truly understands that everything they have—their parents, spouse, children, all their property, everything they’ve built, everything they know, those diplomas hanging on the wall, everything they’ve acquired, including their very body and identity—is a gift, is not truly theirs, is temporary, and will eventually be taken away... only then can they be truly humble.

That realization makes a person non-confrontational and peaceful. They don't feel the need to be at odds with the world, other people, their loved ones, or God. Such a person won't be arrogant, boastful, puffed up, or full of themselves (all traits that are the polar opposite of humility).

But they won't be a pushover who just bends to everyone else either... because beyond seeing that they own nothing, they see that no one else owns anything either.

Elizabeth Castillo87 said:Personally, I feel like the whole debate about whether the SELF is permanent or just passing through is just as important for everyone else, not just the "spiritual seekers." Just as much as it is to figure out what to do with that "I" once you realize it's there.
Once someone has that personal breakthrough, they hit a level where those old questions don't even matter anymore. The real choice is whether they want to stay in that headspace or... well, like Sandra Morgan2 once pointed out, what's the actual payoff for the individual? In the end, we all have to make a call: do we ditch the ego entirely and go live like hermits in the desert, or do we just get smart about it, take the reins, and actually enjoy the ride?

You hit the nail on the head here:

Being open is the absolute baseline if you want to see the full picture.

Just to add... I'm currently reading a wonderful book by Paramahansa Yogananda called "cosmic consciousness." He mentions that while people talk about it, even a mystic who decides they want to maintain that "state" simply can't always do so. Honestly, just a tiny shift in brain chemistry, some bad external vibes, poor diet, or compromised health, and it's gone. Once it's lost, he says, the mystic falls into a state of deep despair.

So, there you have it. Even when someone desperately wants an uninterrupted flow of pure awareness, it isn't strictly a matter of choice. Plus, so much has to be aligned just to exist in a body while trying to enjoy one's samadhi. Someone has to look after them, cook the meals, do the laundry, pay the bills—you basically have to become someone's parasite. Consequently, they end up drifting in and out... assuming, of course, they can successfully leap from this mundane reality back into pure consciousness whenever they please.🙂

Daniel Castillo11 said:Solipsism? Honestly, I suspect that's just a bit of linguistic gymnastics. The real issue lies in our attempt to weave raw experience into the fabric of words. From my own perspective, that sense of "I" tends to sink away, or perhaps it remains incredibly fragile; even when I spend thirty minutes or more in deep meditation, I always find myself hitting that "WTF" sensation—a strange cocktail of existential vacuum, discomfort, relief, and my favorite way to describe it: "blissful ignorance."

It all sounds quite beautiful and profound, doesn't it? But if someone were to walk up and shoot me with a shotgun or hit me with a chainsaw, all my talk of consciousness and spaces-within-spaces wouldn't do me much good. My consciousness would simply flicker out; it would perceive the world in a distorted, fragmented way until the lights go dark completely. That is, until I lose the "I" entirely through death. While consciousness might serve as the subjective starting point for my experience of the world, that doesn't mean consciousness acts as the foundation for material existence. At least, there's zero evidence for that, and frankly, everything seems to point away from both dualism and idealism.

There are no perspectives within consciousness. It is always singular, a single formless thing. Only the content changes.

I constantly get the impression that you are treating "consciousness" as if it were an object. You're viewing it as something sitting behind everything else. That right there is the subtle trap of linguistic dualism. Tell me, where was this consciousness before I was born?

Hmm... where...

Everywhere...

Consciousness "sees itself" as everything and in everything... Not to ramble too much... I'm currently balancing the checkbook and it's hard to multitask with numbers, so I'll answer you with a quote from Gopa Krishna. Assuming you know who he is. Anyway.

We know what all people perceive of this world. I can understand what you perceive of it, you can understand what I perceive of it. That is, this perception is uniform. Everyone has the same perception.

But this other perception is different. In this other perception you do not see the world as a solid, real, objective creation. The real objective creation is consciousness. You see consciousness everywhere. You see the ocean as if it is consciousness everywhere.

You see the ocean as if it is living; you see a mountain as if it is living; you see the sky as if it is living; you see the Earth as if it is living; you see life or consciousness everywhere. And this life or consciousness is not something which is really dead or which is something you can understand.

It is unfathomable.

It is wonder and everytime you see it, you perceive it.

The wonder grows deeper

I am never tired of sitting in quiet and reflecting on myself. I am never tired of looking at the sky. The sky, to me, does not appear as it appeared before my 34th year; it is so fascinating. It is such a beautiful vision that I would like to look at it for days and months on end. In other words, in the air a fountain of happiness, a new kingdom, I should say, is opened.

This is probably what Christ meant when he said, "The Kingdom of Heaven is within you." This is The nirvana of Buddha ; and this is The state of Vada mentioned by The Suffi mystics. In fact, in this inactive state what we perceive is consciousness in its most magic form, in its glorious form, and not consciousness as a point looking through the eyes or hearing through the ears, but a consciousness which has its own channels and which knows that it is the master and not the slave of the material forces which knows it is the creator.

It is infinite: it is deathless. In this state one feels himself to be a king, he feels himself to be the master of what he sees. It is not the ego. I should say it is not the ego; it is the very condition of this consciousness. That is the reason why it is said that no mystic would change his state even for a kingdom. It is somehing so unique, so glorious, so elevating that I have no words to describe this state.

Drew Gray4 said:I appreciate you reaching out; it’s great to see this topic gaining traction. That concept of a self-referential system was actually an intuitive comparison I made myself—I had no idea it was a formal application. I realize there is something essentially ineffable at play here, and I have no intention of falling into the trap of ego, but based on what you’re saying, it clearly is happening.

Ultimately, I feel it is better to attempt to convey even a fragment of these sensations to someone else rather than remaining entirely silent about them.

It isn't as if I have any desire or capacity to teach anyone... I can barely manage my own basic hygiene! :-)

You are so sweet, truly... eternalyou 🙂

urbanwalker72 said:

eternalme As stated by:
That profound depth is the realization that I am a spiritual being first and foremost, rather than merely a physical one. Even when the storms and tempests of life batter my external circumstances, my spiritual essence remains untouched, existing in a state of perfect tranquility regardless of the outcome. It is much like the vast, silent depths of the Pacific Ocean. On the surface, one might face raging twenty-foot swells, yet deep below, there exists an eternal peace and absolute silence. It is much like that.

While you previously touched upon the illness, the highlighted text suggests that you are actually doing quite well.

Many people simply aren't granted that kind of peace. Consider someone battling Alzheimer's; for them, there is no bottomless well of stillness or tranquility to be found, nor is there any way to reach it. At every conceivable level, they are being battered by a relentless hurricane of chaos.

His sense of "self" lacks the permanence of yours; in truth, it is quite fragile.

"Quote:"

I hold the firm conviction that I shall continue to advance along my spiritual path for as long as is required to achieve true personal growth.

If your ultimate objective is to achieve lasting mental tranquility and emotional stability, I would suggest that it might be more prudent to focus on preserving the equilibrium you have already established rather than constantly venturing into new experiments in pursuit of something more.

There is a profound possibility that what you seek will ultimately offer you no true benefit.

One should find contentment in what has been achieved.

"Quote:"

Sandra Morgan2 As stated by: I find myself inclined to agree with Descartes; the old adage "I think, therefore I am" remains fundamentally sound in my estimation.

It is entirely possible that your perspective holds merit. 😁 He simply couldn't afford to rely on circular definitions right from the jump. It is difficult to characterize his approach as true philosophy, given that a philosophical inquiry ought to be anchored in logic—and here, the logical foundation is fundamentally broken from the very beginning.

One cannot simply embed a conclusion within the initial premise of a first assumption. While such a structure might possess some inherent mysticism or perhaps a value that remains obscure to me, the formulation itself is ultimately hollow; it fails to offer any real explanation and serves no functional purpose in the pursuit of clarity.

There exists an inherent function in concealing and mystifying information, though I find little practical value in such tactics when it comes to meaningful discourse. While such obfuscation might serve a purpose within the realm of spiritual practice, it offers nothing to the clarity of our discussion.

"Quote:"

Attempt to reach a state of total mental stillness—which is, after all, the true objective of meditation—and try to remain composed when that sense of "self" begins to dissolve. Once you have reached that threshold, tell me whether you still exist, or if you have truly vanished.

That is a perfectly valid observation; such phenomena are certainly not confined to the practice of meditation alone, but manifest just as readily during sleep, under general anesthesia, or through various neurological conditions and the influence of certain substances.

Daniel Castillo11 explained it quite well—your meditation doesn't imply an ontological disappearance of the "I" agent, but rather its temporary dormancy, a quietening of that central symbol due to the transient shifts in brain function. An ontological disappearance of the "self" would only occur if the capacity to evoke it were permanently and irreversibly disabled.

That reality is profoundly saddening 🤣

My personal approach: I am, therefore I think. As soon as I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking, while I am living, I can choose how and when to utilize various perspectives of consciousness. In other words, how I experience my present moment.

It is highly questionable what exactly "you choose," whether you truly possess agency, and indeed, who is doing the choosing..

I respect spiritual practices, but I don't accept their interpretations.

Perhaps because those aren't actually interpretations at all, but rather mystifications resting calmly upon unverifiable assumptions.

It is a living demonstration of Shermer's thesis regarding believer-dependent realism. Belief arrives first, and only then follow the reasons used to justify it. In such instances, reasons do not serve to explain the thing itself, but merely to bolster the belief, thus becoming both generated and selected to suit it.

However, as you noted, that is their right... though I believe one should dispel the illusion that they are attempting to provide an actual explanation.

If they were genuinely trying to explain, their hypotheses would be risky and testable, making them epistemologically honest.

Logic, my foot.

You and your "logic."

It's like telling someone they can't touch their toes without bending their knees.

Daniel Castillo11 said:If we look at this through a phenomenological lens, what you're essentially doing in that moment is untangling yourself from all that verbal, cognitive, and affective baggage. It's quite clear that the neurotic habit of clinging to everything just snaps. That's what people call mindfulness. However, the "Self" doesn't vanish on an ontological level. It only truly disappears when you stop thinking entirely, which is basically when you're dead. This feeling of "I" is your defining characteristic; it follows you everywhere. Even in the deepest meditative states, it remains present in the unconscious. There is a distinction between mindfulness—that deep, non-verbal focus on pure experience rather than mental content—and the awareness of concepts, language, and linguistic constructs, but that distinction is purely subjective. The focus shifts, the perspective changes, but that individual experience alone isn't enough to let us draw any concrete conclusions about the actual nature of consciousness.

Now, Advaita Vedanta is perfectly fine when it comes to phenomenology; it does a wonderful job, both technically and poetically, of describing that existential vacuum that occurs before we start layering on concepts, memes, and various identities. But in my view, it adds nothing to the question of ontology—it offers no proof that consciousness exists independently of the brain.

But then again, that's just my take, which is pretty much aligned with Wandov's, and us naturalists are definitely in the minority here. 🙂

My own way of looking at it is this: I am, therefore I think. The moment I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking and while I am living, I can choose how and when to employ different perspectives of consciousness. In other words, I get to decide how to experience my present moment. To me, there's no "winner" in this debate. Both perspectives—focusing on the content of thought versus focusing on raw experience—have their specific merits and drawbacks depending on the situation. One is object-oriented, while the other is process-driven and dynamic. When you're practicing mindfulness, all your attention is directed toward the sensory perception of your body and your surroundings rather than the noise inside your head, and that's perfectly fine. The other extreme is neurosis, where you become overly reactive and tethered to every passing emotion, thought, and impulse.

I have a great deal of respect for spiritual practices, even if I don't buy into their interpretations.

But that isn't the "I" anymore. Or, at least, it isn't the "I" we recognize. It becomes a field of consciousness—empty and untainted by content.

Even if the content remains—even if thoughts continue to drift through that internal space—there is no longer anyone there to identify with them because the mechanism of identification has completely broken down.

Can we even call it "I" if there are no traits, no qualities, no definitions? If it is utterly empty, much like the sky serves as the backdrop for birds flying by, yet the sky has nothing to do with the birds; the birds don't touch it, nor do they define it.

Since consciousness itself is empty, it can be neither "self" nor "non-self." Now, I can speak from my own experience up to that point, but beyond that, I have no idea what it is—and I certainly don't know what happens after death.

The focus is different, the perspective is different. But that experience alone isn't enough to draw any concrete conclusions regarding the actual nature of consciousness.

Advaita works fine regarding phenomenology; it describes that feeling of existential vacuum preceding conditioning, memes, and identifications quite well, both technically and poetically. However, I don't think it adds anything to ontology—nothing that serves as proof that consciousness is independent of the brain.

You're right. On the other hand, even without hard evidence, there are certain indications that suggest it might be so.

My personal take: I am, therefore I think. The moment I falter, the thinking stops. As long as I am thinking, as long as I am living, I can choose how and when to utilize different perspectives of consciousness.

There are no "perspectives" of consciousness. It is always one thing—singular and formless. Only the content changes.

Drew Gray4 said:You're absolutely right. When I used that phrase, I didn't mean anything by it—I just meant that I'm not exactly an expert in philosophy, theology, or formal logic, nor do I have much formal training in those fields. Of course, I agree that reading is both essential and incredibly beneficial. And no, I’m not writing a book; I never claimed I was.

I honestly have no idea how I would even attempt to outmaneuver you—not that I want to, can, or even truly grasp what "self-reference" actually entails (and frankly, I’m not in the mood to Google it just to look smart right now :-)). Perhaps I haven't reached your level of intellectual evolution yet; who knows? Regardless, it isn't particularly important to me. For the time being, I am perfectly content with where I stand, and my priority is simply to solidify my current footing.

I don't feel qualified to dive into deep philosophical debates with all of you, mainly because my vocabulary is limited and my thoughts tend to be pretty straightforward. You’re likely much more intelligent than I am, far more well-read, and perhaps even further along in your personal development—and honestly, I’m perfectly fine with that. I have no desire to compete or prove anything. That doesn't mean I don't value the questions you pose, though; I truly do try my best to provide meaningful answers whenever I can.

You’re asking me questions that I don't even have the answers to myself. You want to know the nature of depth, what it's actually made of, and all that philosophical stuff...

That is rather like asking me how one knows how to ride a bicycle. If you truly wish to learn, perhaps you could provide a brief, concise description of the mechanics involved so that I might follow your lead?

You can give me all the details you want, but it won't matter. Until I actually get on that bike, figure out how to balance while pedaling forward, and inevitably wipe out a few times, I’m not going to learn a thing.

That level of depth comes from realizing that I am a spiritual being first, and a physical one second. Even when life hits me with heavy storms or chaotic waves at the surface level—you know, the day-to-day struggles and external circumstances—my spiritual core remains untouched. It stays steady regardless of how things play out, maintaining a perfect sense of peace with whatever happens. It’s much like the Pacific Ocean: you might have massive, twenty-foot swells churning violently on the surface, but down at the very bottom, there is nothing but eternal silence and stillness. Something like that.

In your next post, you’ll probably claim you recognized me as someone who hasn't reached true self-awareness yet. Fine, I'll take that. If that's how you see it, I can live with it. To be honest, I feel like I’ve tapped into something deeper within myself lately. I've stopped looking to the world around me for answers and started searching inward instead. But hey, if you want to insist I haven't arrived there yet, I accept your perspective. At the end of the day, every version of reality holds its own balance of good and bad. Even so, because my life has actually begun to shift, I feel as though I’ve stepped into uncharted territory and made at least some incremental progress compared to how I used to live.

I am committed to pushing myself forward for as long as necessary to achieve my personal spiritual growth and fulfill my soul's true journey.

You mentioned:

Right now, I can't focus on reading books because I'm experiencing everything so intensely that I feel this urgent need to write a book instead.

Well then.....

I'm not qualified to dive into deep philosophical debates with you all, since my vocabulary and thoughts are pretty simple. You're absolutely right that you might be more intelligent, better read, or perhaps at a higher stage of development than I am, and I'm perfectly fine with that. I have no desire to compete. That doesn't mean I don't value your questions or try to answer them, though....

Look, this is an online forum. I hope you weren't expecting to just deliver a monologue, get constant nods of approval, or avoid being challenged just a little bit! 🙂

You ask me questions that even I don't know how to answer. Like, what is depth? What is it made of? And things like that...

That's like me asking you how to ride a bike. Just give me a quick summary of how to do it so I can learn too.

You could explain every single detail to me, but until I actually hop on one, struggle to find my balance, move forward, and fall a few times, I won't truly learn.

You missed the point of what Wand was saying about self-referential systems, yet you still used his logic. The inexpressible cannot be expressed; the inner world can't be fully transferred. But everyone who has realized something and felt the urge to speak (just like you do) speaks what can be spoken. Otherwise, they wouldn't bother sharing their state of mind. My questions are actually quite simple....

That depth is the realization that I am a spiritual being, not just a physical one. Even while storms and waves crash against my physical life and circumstances, my spiritual essence remains unchanged, perfectly calm regardless of the outcome. It's like the deep ocean: there might be twenty-foot waves churning on the surface, but at the bottom, there is eternal peace and silence. Something like that.

In your next post, you say you recognized me as someone who hasn't reached self-realization. Fine, I accept that. Maybe I really am. And honestly? I'm okay with it.

Maybe? Spiritual narcissism is such a massive trap. It’s often disguised as humility, too. To quote myself—and I’ve probably said this at least ten times since I joined this forum back in 2006—our ego always takes at least a ten percent cut from every beautiful spiritual insight we experience. Before we know it, the ego is busy writing books, giving sermons on how the universe works, and trying to lecture everyone else...

Just wanted to see if you fell into that trap too.

urbanwalker72 said:🤣

Quincy:

That doesn't necessarily imply that she possesses true self-awareness.

It is true that self-awareness lacks any tangible substance. Beyond being an ill-defined concept, it functions primarily as an inescapable, self-referential loop.

Quincy:

True self-awareness isn't about finally recognizing the "I" or falling in love with one's own ego; rather, it is the quiet process of that ego gradually fading away.

The disappearance of that "I" signifies nothing less than the total cessation of the self-aware agent.

I believe, therefore, I am.

Whenever I engage in the act of thought, it is an inescapable truth that there must exist a "self" to perform that function. Without this foundational sense of "I," there would be no one to process these ideas, and consequently, existence itself would cease to be.

It cannot be considered a self-aware agent, much like how a garden gnome exists merely as an object without any true consciousness.

Quincy:

If we strip away the layer of self-reference, what remains of the "I" beyond its own reflection?

One must observe the paradox through the lens of an illusion constructed by a self-referential loop and isomorphism.

Quincy:

The self is merely an intricate assembly of symbols—a collection of memories, mental streams, conditioned reflexes, and those early childhood imprints we all carry. In reality, the "I" is nothing more than a construct. It possesses no inherent substance; it is composed of nothing more substantial than mist and feathers, shifting and dissolving with every passing minute.

It is quite evident that change is underway, and it is clear that everything previously mentioned is merely a construct.

I find myself in complete agreement.

Kudos to Descartes, but "I think, therefore I am" is spot on. In my book.

Try sitting in meditation and clearing your mind—that’s the whole point, right?—and try not to panic when that "I" starts to fade away. Then come back and tell me if you're still there or if you've vanished.

urbanwalker72 said:😁

but

even if one has achieved self-realization, they might go unnoticed, whereas someone lacking it remains easy to overlook,
it is no easier to find those without it

in this regard, Drew Gray4 falls into the latter category.

Let us address this systematically. It matters little whether an individual is considered 'self-realized' within the context of your specific interpretation of spirituality.

Any person possessing self-awareness—that is, a conscious understanding of oneself, capable of grasping the concept of 'I' and recognizing their own identity—can be defined as self-aware.

Setting aside any metaphysical nuances, from a purely biological, intellectual, and logical standpoint, the principle remains identical. Self-reference applies to anyone with an internal life complex enough to sustain a system of symbols that includes the concept of 'self.'

One cannot escape this fundamental reality, nor can it be analyzed solely through the lens of the 'enlightened.' This condition applies to all human beings, and perhaps even to certain animals.

Wand, my fellow eternal companion, don't you dare tell me spirituality is just "voodoo."

Any individual possessing self-awareness—that is, an awareness of oneself (being able to grasp the concept of "I" and recognize one's own reflection in a mirror)—is a self-aware person.

That does NOT mean they are self-realized.

Self-realization implies the disappearance of that "I," not its recognition. Not falling in love with it and all that...

Even without stepping into "spirituality," purely from a biological, intellectual, and logical standpoint—it's the same thing. Self-reference applies to anyone with enough interiority to possess a complex enough symbolic system to include the concept of "I," or self-reference.

So what even is the "I" besides being self-referential?

A sufficiently rich system of symbols created it, or rather, it consists of those symbols, memories, the mental stream, conditioned reactions, early childhood programming, blah blah... The "I" is a construct. A construct that isn't even more than the sum of its parts; it has no substance. It's made of mist and feathers because it changes from one minute to the next.

urbanwalker72 said:I don't think it's quite that straightforward. When we discuss the concept of self-knowledge, self-reference is logically indispensable. Your analogy regarding the orange and its juice lacks that necessary element of self-reference.

If I were to draft a formal mathematical or logical definition of a self-referential system, I doubt anyone would bother reading it, so instead, I will rely on more familiar, illustrative examples:

Let's start with something simple:

Consider the statement: 'This sentence is false.'

Is this statement true or false? If it is true, then by its own definition, it is false. Conversely, if it is false, then it must be true.

Now, for something slightly more complex:

Imagine there is a town with only one male barber; let's assume all men in this town are regularly shaved. Some men shave themselves, while others go to the barber. We can establish a rule: The barber shaves all those, and only those, men who do not shave themselves. Given these parameters, we face a question: Does the barber shave himself?

As it turns out, the scenario described is actually impossible.

If the barber does not shave himself, then according to the rule, he must shave himself, because he is the one tasked with shaving everyone who doesn't shave themselves.
But if he does shave himself, then according to the rule, he must stop, because he no longer falls into the group of people he is permitted to shave.

Self-referential concepts inherently harbor paradoxes, regardless of the subject matter—a fact that was spectacularly proven through formal logic by Kurt Gödel and Gregory Chaitin.

Any system that possesses enough complexity to speak about itself must, by necessity, contain paradoxes.

Therefore, if you intend to logically analyze someone's self-discovery, your analysis must be built upon concepts involving self-reference, rather than the juice of an orange.

Good luck with your search. 😁

Urbanwalker72, you total party pooper 🙂

Now they know exactly how to checkmate me.

You've got a point...

but

even if you can't identify someone who is self-aware,
spotting someone who isn't is easy enough.

In that regard, Drew Gray4 is definitely the latter.

Drew Gray4 said:Sandra Morgan2: No, I haven't swapped them out in three years. I went through them pretty frequently during those first three years... and generally speaking, yeah, they wouldn't have lasted nearly this long.

To address the question I missed earlier... I'm not exactly an expert at articulating things in such a spiritual sense, nor have I devoured enough literature to pull sophisticated phrases out of thin air. What I was trying to convey is that I've finally learned to love myself. I’ve come to realize my own depth—an unspeakable depth that was previously obscured by my physical appearance, which I used to loathe and feel ashamed of (I'm referring to my looks, my financial standing, and things of that nature).

crimsonfox26, you hit the nail on the head: acceptance. It's about not fighting everything around you or within you. Life isn't a battle. So many people pay a heavy price for that mindset because they view everything as a struggle, and when you frame life as a fight, there's always the risk of losing. But personally, I can't lose anything, because I don't own anything besides myself—and since I am timeless, I can't possibly lose who I am. Something like that. :-)

Phrases? Come on now... that wasn't very kind of you. You can find real depth and wisdom in plenty of books—spiritual or otherwise. They can be informative or even transformative, especially since many great works were written by people with highly developed spirits, high intelligence, and broad educations. We can learn so much from their experiences! Plus, as we know, you're actually writing a book yourself—that’s why you started this thread in the first place, right?

I've never felt the need to write extensively, but with this thread, I wanted to share my feelings and thoughts—things I feel are too important to just keep to myself.

I just wanted to say that by falling in love with myself, I realized my own depth—this unspeakable depth that was hidden behind the superficial physical level I used to inhabit, which I hated and felt ashamed of (referring to my looks, material status, and things like that).

So... what exactly is this "depth"?
What is it made of,
whose is it,
and who is it that discovered it?

When you squeeze an orange, you get orange juice.
An orange can't produce anything other than what is already inside it.

You can't squeeze an orange and get strawberry juice.

So, when you start squeezing a person, what comes out is exactly what they hold inside.
The public persona of a public figure is rarely the same as what lies within.

My questions are meant to squeeze you—to see what is truly inside you. Are you peaceful in the way most non-neurotic, mentally stable people are, or is your peace the kind that comes from true self-realization?

Drew Gray4 said:Hey everyone, just wanted to check in briefly. It’s not that I’ve gone MIA on you, I truly just haven't been able to find a spare moment to sit down and write.

Work has been consuming more than a week straight now, draining a massive amount of my energy and time from sunrise to sunset, and when the weekend finally rolls around, my priority is spending quality time with my kid. This past week brought plenty of tests; I handled some well, and others were a bit more of a struggle, but regardless, I'm no longer living purely on autopilot. Now, if I do happen to slip back into those old subconscious patterns, I can "wake up" from that state almost immediately and return to acting from a place of conscious awareness—meaning I'm not being driven by negative emotions like anger or jealousy anymore.

Of course, nothing is perfect, but I’m accepting things exactly as they are. I intentionally shared quite a bit about myself, and I noticed some people interpreted my illness in a different light. I don't really know what to say to that; I was honest about everything. Yes, I am ill, I am undergoing treatment, and I am taking medication—I've actually changed my prescriptions quite a bit recently. On top of all that, I manage a high-responsibility, mentally taxing job with long hours, all while providing for my family, supporting my parents, and working incredibly hard to balance it all. Right now, my feet are firmly planted on the ground. I'm not falling for any illusions regarding reality; self-awareness doesn't necessitate immediate change, though it could, and it will be interesting to see how things unfold and what my true self decides to choose. To be honest, I don't see any signs of mania or bipolar phases in myself. That said, I'm staying cautious and not forcing anything. Life feels just as heavy as it did before, except for me—I've become spiritually unburdened, and because I'm carrying so little spiritual baggage despite all these hardships, life feels much easier to navigate.

It’s a beautiful day today; make sure to get out into nature and engage all your senses.

With all due respect to your insights—and please don't take this the wrong way—it truly warmed my heart to read how you’ve emerged from that mental hell directly into the light. Purely out of curiosity, though, because I'm fascinated by the link between consciousness and the brain... I can't help but ask: did such a radical shift coincide with a change in your medication?

Besides, you were pretty vague when you replied to Maria Fox4—who exactly fell in love with your soul?

urbanwalker72 said:Where exactly in bad science did you read that unverifiable claims can be made within the realm of science?

The entire book focuses on either pseudoscience or fundamental flaws in scientific methodology. Having read it twice myself, I haven't found a single instance where Goldacre identifies an unverifiable claim within established science. He certainly finds plenty of them within pseudoscience, however.

In my view, this stands as one of the essential texts for developing critical thinking skills.

In the sphere of human endeavor known as art, you can speak from the soul as much as you desire without any need for evidence, statistics, mathematics, verification, or laboratory testing; no one would think to check whether you are writing truth or mere fantasy in your book or poem...

😕 Art does not deal in claims. When a poet writes a verse or a painter produces a canvas, they are not presenting assertions regarding the truth of a thesis, but rather narratives—personal impressions. No one asks the Brothers Grimm to prove their fairy tales are real, because the author makes no such assertion. In art, stories are fictional by definition; they do not test a thesis for truth or falsehood.

A claim occurs when I ask you to lend me money based solely on a promise to repay it, without providing proof or collateral. A claim is made when I assert that the Virgin Mary appeared to me and demand your belief without evidence. A claim is made when I say aliens abducted me without proof. A claim is made when a prosecutor asserts I stole something without evidence.

Similarly, claims arise in philosophy and mathematics, yet in those fields, proofs are derived through logic.

My point was that reading it makes you realize anything goes in science—it's just like any other human endeavor. Bad Science is what happens when scientists are driven by ego, a thirst for promotion, greed, or outright fraud. It's when they falsify data, take bribes, or massage their findings to please whoever is cutting the checks...

😕 Art isn't concerned with making claims.

Well, is it? Take a poet like Mevlan Dželaludin Rumi, the 13th-century mystic. Doesn't he claim we have a spiritual body in addition to our physical one? He also asserts that it outlasts death. As a poet, he doesn't need to present empirical evidence to anyone to prove he's right.

......

Treat your body as the soul you carry.

When you are with the one you love, do you fall in love with their clothes?

Seek instead the one who is truly dressed.

Unity with God is sweeter than any physical pleasure.

We possess hands and feet unlike these.

Sometimes we see them in our dreams.

That isn't an illusion. That is true vision.

You have a spiritual body;

do not fear leaving the physical behind.

Sometimes someone feels this truth so intensely

that they can live comfortably as a hermit in the mountains.

urbanwalker72 said:Perhaps consider it this way—in what area of human endeavor is it considered honest or meaningful to present a claim that simply cannot be verified?

So, we have science and art... In science, they say you can't make a claim without verification... although... just a quick aside... I'm reading bad science right now and seeing that anything goes sometimes.

In the realm of human activity called art, you can speak your heart's desire without any evidence, statistics, math, or lab tests. No one is going to stop and check if you're telling the truth or just dreaming in your book or poem...

A writer's or poet's work becomes great when it vibrates, finds its reflection, and echoes within many people who read it with enthusiasm and delight. That echo means that what the artist thinks, feels, explains, interprets, or creates through imagery, we recognize as a part of ourselves. His world happens inside us and around us; he just knows how to phrase it beautifully with juicy sentences, shaping content that is fundamentally a part of our own experience.

analoghawk13 said:Maybe. I don't know.

But honestly, Paul is the ultimate example of someone who could take his visions—wherever they actually originated—and distill them into top-tier, crystal-clear analysis. Whatever he experienced, he processed it into something incredibly sharp and coherent.

There are plenty of people out there dealing with epilepsy, but there’s only ever one Paul.

They supposedly say that among the "elite" of those with such conditions, there is only one Moses and only one Muhammad. Dostoevsky. van Gogh. Newton. And so on... Plenty of great artists, mystics, scientists. That's why they call it the "illness of the gifted."

Elizabeth Castillo87 said:Do you really think, Sandra Morgan2, that people can just forget experiences like that?

That fear you're talking about? Personally, I think it's a beautiful built-in safety switch. It's actually good that it exists. It drags us back to where we belong for now—to the reality of paying the mortgage, raising kids, keeping the house running, and making sure there's a hot meal on the table tonight. If you just slip over to some parallel reality and get lost in it, you end up looking like a total nutcase in this one. You get swept away by experiences that don't serve any practical purpose, and before you know it, you're either a burden on someone else or checking into a psych ward.

So, in this context, fear actually serves a purpose: it keeps us grounded.

Sure, maybe fear works as a defense mechanism as long as we're using it to push experiences away—using it as the ultimate block. But once you've actually lived through it? That block is gone. At that point, it can lead you straight into an illusion of monsters and pure evil. That's why, in the Abrahamic traditions where they have these super clear-cut archetypes of good versus evil, you see all these mystics—people who clearly had an awakening—preaching wildly about hellfire and divine wrath. The most obvious example is St. Paul in the Christian tradition, who basically steered the entire course of Christianity.
Bottom line: I don't think fear is a good friend. Caution, maybe. I remember this one Zen master—can't for the life of me remember his name, shoot—who said something that stuck with me:
"Before enlightenment, mountains were mountains and hills were hills. After enlightenment, mountains are still mountains and hills are still hills."

I don't get this... 😕

Let me be clear: SOME fears are a blessing. Like when you feel that icy chill hit you because you see your kid leaning too far out a window and they might fall. That fear triggers an adrenaline surge from your adrenal glands, and suddenly you're moving like a panther, lunging toward that window to grab them in a split second.

Besides, why should we have to push through every single terrifying experience just to overcome it? Maybe, like I mentioned in my previous post, for certain "mystical" encounters, fear serves a legitimate purpose as a defense mechanism.

Take a woman I know—she had one isolated psychotic break where she completely lost it. She was talking nonsense, screaming, neglecting her hygiene, even trying to fight people close to her. She claimed she met Jesus and realized she was His wife.

Once things calmed down through therapy and medication, she actually became terrified of meditation (TM), which she used to do regularly before the episode. And honestly? She has reason to be afraid. For someone who is mentally fragile—someone with a genetic predisposition or a family history of psychosis and personality disorders—meditation can trigger depersonalization, derealization, or dissociative disorders, and therefore trigger a psychotic episode.

That’s why in Abrahamic traditions, where there are clearly defined archetypes of good and evil, you often see mystics—people whose records suggest they likely achieved enlightenment—who then go on to preach about hellish torments and divine judgment. The most obvious example is Saint Paul in the Christian tradition, who fundamentally steered Christianity.

Microsoft he wasn't self-aware...

It was likely, as neurologists suspect based on the symptom list, an aura from a full grand mal seizure in the temporal lobe.


Auditory hallucinations of divine voices, visions of divine figures, and physical collapse are all common elements of TLE (temporal lobe epilepsy), and they are especially common in documented cases of sudden religious conversion in people with temporal lobe epilepsy.

In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul described another experience, in which he was "caught up to paradise and heard sacred secrets which no human lips can repeat." He also claimed that he was "given a thorn in the flesh, an angel of Satan to rack me" to prevent him from becoming too prideful about his "wealth of visions." This story gives two important indications that Paul might have suffered from TLE: there is confirmation that he had recurring, if not frequent visions, and he had an awareness or perception of some illness in himself.

"Quincy"

Angela Cox4 said:But honestly? Fear is nothing more than a restrictive trap that just drags you down.

Usually, the people who fall into that hole are those dealing with a whole history of health issues—including panic attacks, which obviously tie right back to that fear.

There is absolutely nothing good to be found in fear.

I said... fear. In this case.:

"Quincy:"

So fear actually serves a purpose here—it keeps us grounded.

Fear is an emotion, sure—but at its core, it’s an instinct. It's a survival mechanism designed to keep us alive.

Let's be clear: irrational fears, anxiety, and panic attacks are negative psychological states—disorders that can absolutely paralyze you. But fear itself? Fear is actually positive when it serves a purpose. It’s meant to protect us from physical harm like death, injury, or illness, as well as those hits to our emotional and mental stability.

Anyone who’s ever gone through a massive shift in how they see the world—or themselves—knows that underlying dread. That quiet fear that you might actually lose your grip on reality. Honestly? That fear is healthy. It’s a survival instinct. Because if you aren't careful, you really can snap. You could end up totally checked out from society, just staring into space, or like... well, like Ramakrishna, jumping wildly from branch to branch thinking he's a monkey.

Imagine this: someone starts messing around with Kundalini energy and ends up curled up in a corner of their room, shaking with pure electricity. They’re babbling nonsense in languages they don't even know, twitching and convulsing, unable to eat or sleep because they're being flooded by some intense light that feels like a massive data download. That terror you feel in that moment? It’s a warning. It's an alarm bell ringing in the mind, telling you that if you keep pushing like this, things are not going to end well.

Elizabeth Castillo87 said:Maybe. But aren't those experiences kind of like little windows that give us a fleeting glimpse of pure consciousness—windows we purposely slam shut because we're too terrified to actually face what's on the other side?

When you're on different frequencies, with different centers activated under different brain conditions, space, the world, time, and how you see yourself in it look completely different.

Who's to say this mundane, everyday reality is any more "true" or less of an illusion than what we see when our perception shifts—when suddenly we aren't even in our bodies anymore, but hovering two feet above ourselves, looking down at our double sitting there, a little to the right...

This standard reality might not be more "real" or less illusory than the stuff we see in altered states, but somehow, we're just incredibly tethered to it, even when we see right through the illusion.

If an experience is transformative and expands someone's understanding, then yeah, it's worth something. If it drives a person insane, then no, it's not. For me, these little periscopes we use to peek out of our bodies and test reality feel like a claustrophobic limitation. That's why many of these expanded perception experiences feel to me like, say, being born without the sense of hearing, never having heard a single sound in my life, and then suddenly someone introduces me to the entire world of audio. An entire dimension opens up right in front of you, and it's valuable on so many levels that I don't even want to get into it...

Exactly. Like any experience, these things are only valuable if we actually take them seriously. I think we tend to dismiss them, mostly because they scare the hell out of us.

I mean, man, it’s a tough call. Think about how our modern civilization would handle someone like Francis of Assisi showing up in the middle of Times Square, stripping down, and announcing he’s heading into the woods to live with the animals. Total meltdown, right? Or what if Buddha just walked up to a crowd and claimed he’d lived through 99,000 different lifetimes? People would lose it. Honestly, I can't even imagine how guys like Krishnamurti or Maharishi would fare today—they'd probably be handed a prescription by a psychiatrist before they could even finish their first sentence.
That's why I'm saying, you really have to be careful with how you approach it.

They aren't "windows" into pure consciousness. Because in pure consciousness, there is no content. No objects. No events. No phenomena. Paradoxically, there isn't even anyone there to be conscious of being in a state of pure consciousness. It’s a pure non-dual experience... which, of course, isn't an "experience." For an experience to exist, you need a subject doing the experiencing and a sense of time passing—both of which are just more content, more objects within consciousness. They are just our usual worldly tendency to divide things into a watcher, the watching, and the thing being watched.

Exactly. Like any other experience, these are only valuable if we actually acknowledge them. I think we tend to reject them. Mostly because they scare us.

That fear you mentioned? To me, it's a beautiful protective mechanism. It’s good that it exists! It pulls us back to where we belong right now—to the world where we have to pay the bills, raise kids, maintain a home, and make sure we have a hot meal on the table every day. If we slipped into some parallel reality, we'd look like total lunatics in this one. We'd be swept away by experiences that serve no practical purpose, eventually needing someone to take care of us or ending up in a mental health facility.

So, in this case, fear serves a vital function: it keeps us grounded.

Elizabeth Castillo87 said:Look, we’ve all heard the chatter by now—there are endless studies out there showing that you can actually trigger these intense "spiritual" experiences just by poking at specific centers in the brain. It’s everywhere. You’ve got astronauts floating in the void having these profound moments, people tripping on psychedelics, near-death experiences... it's a whole spectrum of weirdness.
The typical scientific take? They argue that if you can just flip a switch in the brain to make these things happen, then it’s all just neurochemistry. To them, it’s proof there’s nothing "out there," just neurons firing in the dark. Naturally, religious folks look at those kinds of experiments with a massive amount of skepticism.
But honestly? I see it differently. To me, the fact that we can even induce these states suggests we’re sitting on a mountain of knowledge we aren't even aware of—stuff that's buried incredibly deep. If you look at it through the lens of biological evolution, there’s zero survival reason for us to carry around those kinds of heavy, ancient memories, no matter how deep they go.
People who get hit with these induced experiences usually end up totally lost, not knowing what to do with themselves. And let's be real, even when these things hit you out of nowhere, it’s a hell of a thing to process. It isn't easy to carry.
But seriously, since anyone can basically be triggered into this state, how does that prove it's somehow meaningless? How does being able to replicate it mean it doesn't matter?

I’m with John on this one. What scientists are capable of doing—what they can trigger or induce—just doesn't count as a true spiritual experience. To me, a real spiritual experience is enlightenment. It’s that awakening of pure consciousness. Everything else? Those are just phenomena. They're mere sensations or perceptions that don't align with our standard conscious state, our sense of space and time, or our physical perception of the body when the brain is functioning normally.

Near-Death Experiences. Always such a fascinating topic.Meditation, high fevers, schizophrenic or psychotic episodes, temporal lobe epilepsy auras, psychedelics, narcotics... DMT.Ayahuasca, electrical magnetic stimulation of brain centers—all of this can trigger a total breakdown of our everyday reality. That solid, predictable world we think we know? It starts to warp, bend, sway, and crumble until it transforms into something else entirely.

The core remains the same: the space of our consciousness where experience actually unfolds. These phenomena are always just contents within that awareness, which means no actual leap into pure consciousness has occurred. Even if someone felt larger than a mountain, experienced all three dimensions of time at once, perceived time differently, or saw their own doppelgänger—those experiences are fascinating, unique, and transformative. They’re certainly valuable. They show us how much the illusions we perceive depend on subtle shifts in brain activity, proving that reality is far more dynamic and layered than we can grasp. But even then? They aren't "spiritual" experiences. I’d call them experiences of alternative or parallel realities instead. As cool as they are, we shouldn't be slapping religious or spiritual labels on them.

On different frequencies—with entirely different brain centers firing—space, time, and our very sense of self look completely different. It’s a whole new world.

Who says this everyday reality is any more "real" than those altered states? You know the feeling—when your perception shifts and suddenly you aren't even in your own body anymore. One second you're grounded, and the next, you're floating two feet above yourself, looking down at your double sitting there... just a little bit to the right.

Quinn:

I personally believe that the fact we can actually induce these kinds of experiences proves we know far more than we realize—it’s just buried incredibly deep. From a biological evolution standpoint, no matter how profound our memories might feel, there is simply no evolutionary necessity for something like this. People who have these kinds of experiences induced usually don't know how to handle them. And I'll admit—it isn't easy dealing with them even when they just happen spontaneously! But how exactly does the fact that anyone can be induced into it serve as proof that it’s just... nothing worth mentioning?

It’s worth it if the experience actually changes you—if it expands your consciousness. But if it just drives you crazy? Then it isn't worth the trouble. For me, these little "periscopes" we use to peek out from our physical bodies and test reality feel like a claustrophobic trap. It's too limiting. To me, these shifts in perception feel exactly like being born without hearing, living my whole life in silence, and then having someone suddenly introduce me to the world of sound. An entire dimension just opens up right in front of you. It’s valuable on so many levels that I don't even know where to start...

wanderingmoose15 said:Can someone who actually bites their nails give me a constructive answer as to why they do it? Millions of people worldwide struggle with this painful addiction that basically amounts to self-harm. Medical experts are even looking into classifying nail biting as a formal mental health disorder. I guess I want to know why it's considered a psychological issue and what kind of consequences it leads to.😍

Biting your nails down until they bleed involves elements of self-destruction. It’s a form of self-punishment. A clear indicator of internal struggles. There's your answer. As for consequences? Nothing major—just ugly nails.

Ryan Thompson4 said:“Some people view the soul as something breathtaking, others describe it as such, and some hear about it as something truly wondrous, yet there are those who simply can't wrap their heads around it even after hearing all about it.” (Bhagavad-gita, 2.29)

here’s my 🙂

I assume this is Prabhupada's translation from the Sanskrit...

Anyone can grasp the concept of the soul intellectually if you explain it simply enough—even a child could get it with the right wording. But realizing that the soul actually defies intellectual capture? That idea is way beyond even Prabhupada's spiritual reach. So, here’s a better translation of that verse:

Some catch a glimpse of consciousness manifesting and find themselves wondering at it.

Some speak of Him as a marvel, and some hear of Him as a marvel.

Yet, despite seeing, speaking, or hearing, none truly know Him.

Consciousness is so subtle that the sense organs can't fathom it, yet it constantly leaves one in a state of awe.

(Per Vedic teaching, the mind is considered a sense organ)

And this translation makes much more sense too:

One perceives it as a mystery, speaks of it as a mystery, or hears of it as a mystery, yet no one truly knows it.
That (the Self, the One, the Divine) which we observe, speak of, and hear about as a wonder beyond our grasp...
because despite everything we learn from those who possess wisdom, no human mind has ever truly known this Absolute.