Posts by Daniel Castillo11

Thomas Nelson25 said:hm, haven't seen that specific episode, but I do watch those kinds of documentaries.

Like, Zen definitely works in the West (Westernized Koans would be pretty wild), just modified to fit our headspace... the core of Buddhism stays intact. It's super hard to turn Nirvana (satori) into some New Age thing... you can speculate, sure, but then it's not really it... we're talking about the mysticism of reality itself... it's easy to see through the Thomas Nelson25 types. 😉

I am not entirely convinced that we can link Nirvana or Buddhism directly to mysticism. Zen, in particular, doesn't fit that mold, especially when you consider the Rinzai style of Koan. Mysticism is typically found within ecstatic religions—those emotionally charged doctrines centered around a divine personality or a deity, where there is a direct relationship between the worshiper and the worshiped. You might find traces of this in certain Buddhist traditions like Pure Land, but even there, it isn't true mysticism so much as it is classical devotion aimed at accumulating "merit" or karmic points.

Of course, perhaps the issue lies in how we choose to define the term "mysticism." I tend to stick to the more traditional definition.

Koans are certainly intriguing, though. They function as a type of paradoxical statement designed to reset the conceptual mind, leaving behind a sense of confusion or doubt in place of a verbal response. This state serves as an entry point into a direct experience of reality in the moment. Or, to put it more bluntly, a bit of a Mindfucker.🙂

If we were looking for the West's ultimate Mindfucker, it would likely be Wittgenstein, primarily due to his philosophical word games and his skepticism regarding the utility of language and words. He viewed his own methods as therapeutic, which feels quite similar to how certain schools of Zen attempt to quiet the reactive mind through paradox and absurdity.

When you look at the deep roots of Dharmic religions—whether we’re talking about Jainism, certain branches of Hinduism, or Buddhism—there is this singular, driving pursuit that ties them all together: the desperate, beautiful quest to find liberation from Suffering. It’s almost like how a person might spend their entire life trying to navigate out of a dense, fog-covered labyrinth in the Pacific Northwest, searching for that one clear path that finally leads to open sunlight. They aren't just looking for a temporary fix or a bit of comfort; they are seeking a total, fundamental release from the very cycle of existence that keeps us bound to our struggles. Something. Whether we are discussing Moksha or Nirvana, it is fascinating to observe how Jainism and Buddhism approach these concepts, even if their interpretations diverge significantly. One might argue that these aren't exactly "religions" in the traditional sense of the word; there isn't this grand, absolute striving for a higher power, nor is there any concept of personal merit to collect at the finish line. Instead, what we are looking at is a profound transformation of one’s desires, needs, and fundamental perceptions—that is the true target of these traditions. It is essentially a disciplined progression through asceticism and a type of mental minimalism. Of course, it is quite easy for an outsider to mistake this pursuit for mere stagnation or simply drifting through life, a critique I have seen a few skeptics raise before.

While I haven't quite mastered the deepest intricacies of every doctrine, I’ve begun to sense that the concept of liberation—that ultimate release found across all three major traditions—functions primarily as a process of purification. It isn't about accumulating some sort of spiritual surplus; rather, it’s about stripping away the excess. There is this persistent skepticism regarding our everyday perception, suggesting that the very way we experience reality is actually the primary engine behind all human Suffering. Honestly, if you presented this conclusion to a group of modern psychologists, I suspect they wouldn't find much to argue against. In many ways, these ancient Eastern traditions seem to have mastered the art of psychological diagnostics long before the West even developed a framework for it. To me, it really comes down to questioning the fundamental validity of how we perceive the world around us. Now, of course, determining exactly how accurate they are—and to what degree—is a much more complex matter. Personally, I find myself gravitating toward Buddhism; there’s a certain pragmatic quality to it that lacks the heavy layers of mythology found elsewhere. It feels as though they have truly managed to strike at the very heart of the matter.

Attachment certainly leads to suffering, though I find that our modern understanding of what we call suffering—that concept of Dukkha—is quite a departure from the original teachings of Buddha. To be perfectly honest, there isn't a single English word that truly captures the essence of Dukkha; if I had to pick the closest approximation, I might settle on "dissatisfaction" or a general sense of unease. It’s a subtle distinction, but a vital one. In the Abrahamic traditions, there seems to be this almost ritualistic tendency, a sort of prideful fetishism, in clinging to one's own misery or even attempting to shoulder the weight of the world's agony as if it were a badge of honor. However, in many Eastern traditions—setting aside the more extreme ascetic movements—suffering isn't viewed as an end in itself, but rather as a symptom. It is a symptom of flawed perception, a byproduct of our failure to grasp the ultimate Truth. Regardless of how one views the more mundane, everyday struggles of life, the root cause remains the same: we simply haven't seen things as they really are.

It strikes me that the way Dharmic traditions approach our desires, our fundamental needs, and the inner workings of the mind is fundamentally distinct from how we typically handle things here in the West.

If one were to look for movements within the West that truly mirror these philosophical or spiritual currents, you would find them in the traditions of Stoicism, Epicureanism, Cynicism, and Skepticism—though I should clarify that I am using those terms in their original, classical sense rather than how they are often diluted in modern conversation. Much like Buddhism, these are essentially ascetic paths that champion the virtue of moderation and the wisdom of the middle way. They all seem to converge on a similar point: the pursuit of an ultimate, or perhaps at least a final, kind of freedom, treating that liberation as the primary vehicle to escape from Suffering. It’s funny how we often find ourselves searching for something—just a vague sense of "something"—without ever quite being able to put a finger on what that might be. It’s like wandering through a vast, fog-covered landscape in the Pacific Northwest, knowing there’s a landmark just ahead, yet unable to discern its shape through the mist. We spend so much of our lives chasing these nebulous ideas, hoping that if we just move fast enough or look hard enough, the essence of what we're seeking will finally reveal itself. But perhaps the search itself is the point, a quiet, unfolding process rather than a destination to be reached. While most Western philosophical traditions seem preoccupied with the idea of acquisition—gathering experiences, accumulating emotions, cataloging memories, and essentially building up a sense of self—these Eastern perspectives suggest something entirely different. They focus on a specific kind of detachment, an effort to break free from that restless, compulsive mental loop where we find ourselves obsessively clinging to things. It isn’t necessarily that they view experiences or emotions as inherently "bad," per se, but rather that the goal is to transcend those ingrained mental and emotional patterns through disciplined practice. The aim is to reach a point where that concept of the "self" somehow dissolves into the process itself, precisely because the self isn't actually some fixed, central pillar of reality. This approach runs directly counter to most of our intuitive assumptions about solidifying who we are or reinforcing our perceived identities. In this light, the East and the West stand in total opposition. Of course, when you get down to the actual practice, everything remains somewhat relative, as the individual results can vary wildly from one person to the next.

I would venture to add that while we often point to attachment as the root of Suffering, it isn't quite as simple as a one-to-one equation; there is actually a vast spectrum involved. On one end, you have those basic, primal human attachments tied to our fundamental biological needs, but as you move up the scale, things get much more complicated. You start seeing these intricate, almost compulsive fixations on abstract concepts, fleeting ideas, or specific ideologies—all while lacking any real insight into the dynamic, complex reality that exists beneath the surface of appearances. In many ways, focusing only on the surface level is a very narrow perspective. If we follow this logic to its ultimate conclusion, the final stage of this spectrum is what we would simply call addiction. When you look at all these different philosophical traditions, regardless of how much they might diverge in their rituals, they all seem to share a common objective: a form of mental training or cognitive therapy. One of their more practical, grounded goals is to foster a moral life by dismantling the various types of mental compulsivity and reactivity that plague us. It’s worth noting that both our culture and our very nature condition us in countless ways, so being attached to something is really just a matter of biological fact and deductive observation. The true issue lies in how that attachment manifests within our mental sphere. It isn't the attachment itself that causes the trouble; rather, it is our internal reaction to perceiving that attachment. That sense of "dissatisfaction," the irritation, or even profound Suffering is essentially what occurs when we react blindly to our own limited perception.

Michael Gonzalez77 said:But there is Consciousness. 🙂 Some might say you're splitting hairs, especially regarding that whole "nothing lasts" idea (except for the thing that possesses permanence as its very nature—you know, the thing that remains regardless of how fleeting everything else is). Because if "Nothingness" actually existed as a thing, well, now that would be something. Just kidding. 😁

I suspect Gautama Buddha might have a different take on that.

I find myself in complete agreement with the last two posts made here. It seems to me that the concept of suffering serves as a massive common denominator for three major philosophical traditions: Buddhism, Stoicism, and Epicureanism.

To put it plainly, Buddhists would argue that there isn't actually a "person" experiencing suffering, but rather a subjective collection of interdependent processes that creates this persistent illusion of a solid, continuous identity. The Stoics, on the other hand, suggest that suffering stems from the individual harboring irrational, faulty, or harmful beliefs. Then you have the Epicureans, who posit that suffering arises from a lack of moderation—essentially failing to strike that delicate balance between hedonism and asceticism. All three schools converge on the idea that the core issue lies in some form of mental attachment or emotional reactivity. They also agree that this problem is rooted in something inherent to the human condition, which can, theoretically, be mitigated or even removed, though they diverge significantly when it comes to their specific methods and where they place their emphasis regarding life and personality.

If I may interject with a slight refinement to the definition of the problem, I think we must consider how we define both "attachment" and "suffering." If we view attachment as a sort of psychological addiction to certain stimuli—separate from our basic biological and neurological functions—then all three philosophies are fundamentally opposed to being "hooked" on anything. It really comes down to a matter of relative freedom. There is no such thing as absolute freedom in a vacuum. A person can only strive to be freer from their own internal and societal mental conditioning, which acts as a kind of constant psychological terror; one cannot simply exist outside of it, nor can anyone truthfully claim to have transcended human suffering, identification, or the so-called "ego." In my estimation, achieving such a state would require the total numbing of the human organism to the point of becoming more like a houseplant, devoid of any consciously maintained identity. Even those people who seem to have minimal reactivity still carry these same fundamental human flaws.

If attachment is indeed the engine of suffering, then what we are truly attached to are specific outcomes and particular needs. We all harbor this deep-seated desire to have things go our way—to dictate outcomes, to meet our expectations, to exert control over other people and resources, or to chase happiness and hedonistic pleasure.

I am inclined to agree with the user who brought up the concept of CONTROL. Whether we admit it to ourselves or hide behind various excuses, at our very foundation, we crave certainty, security, and happiness. And most of the time, we attempt to secure these things through the blunt instrument of control.

Buddhism and the other philosophies mentioned primarily tackle conditioning at the level of the mind and through ethics and action. Now, objective conditioning—things like our genetics, individual psychology, sociological factors, and upbringing—is absolutely unavoidable, regardless of any individual's fantasy that they can exist in an unconditioned state. While we can certainly regulate attachment and conditioning on a relative, mental level, we can only ever *regulate* them. I honestly don't believe it is possible to completely eradicate reactivity by reaching some magical milestone where one says, "Well, I've reached enlightenment, so my struggles are gone forever." To me, that pragmatic view is far more realistic than the esoteric notion that we can somehow bypass or permanently delete a lifetime of conditioning. To suggest otherwise feels like a heightened form of solipsism. Personally, I see that as a profound form of self-deception rather than a humble or realistic appraisal of reality.

Michael Anderson2 said:Well, bravo. You nailed it. Even the fact that you aren't catching my drift is part of the process—it's exactly how it's supposed to go, so don't sweat it. You aren't missing out on anything...

Now, that doesn't mean someone should just jump off a bridge—unless they actually have to, I guess; if they do, then jumping is just the thing to do 😬—but generally, people just do what they feel is necessary. It's all part of the fabric of reality. Accepting things as they are right now doesn't mean you sit around doing nothing. Do what you think needs to be done, and then just accept whatever comes your way. Because that’s the only thing that *can* happen. It couldn't have been this or that, left or right—it could only be what it is. That’s the only possibility there is.

The whole thing is actually quite banal—so incredibly simple that people struggle to see the truth, even though "the truth shall set them free"... 😁

That is truly the bottom line. We all find ourselves waiting for massive shifts, looking for transformations, or desperately trying to micromanage the natural flow of events. Whether we try to control a small piece of that flow, attempt to steer the entire current, or adopt a total "whatever happens, happens" attitude, the only sane and healthy perspective is to embrace reality exactly as it presents itself when it arrives. It leads to the least amount of suffering, the least amount of clinging, and allows for the greatest openness to both old and new experiences—it’s a general acceptance of life, of oneself, and of others. Even when it hurts. Pain doesn't just evaporate into thin air; there is always going to be at least a tiny shred of attachment to what is happening. As humans, we tend to fall for the illusion that our experiences, our ideas, and our expectations of how things "should" be are permanent. But when those things slip through our fingers, our only real alternative is to let go of those expectations and focus solely on what we can actually influence, or more accurately, what we have any sway over.

In short, the wheel of Fortune or pure chance keeps turning whether we like it or not. The real question is how ready we are to embrace destiny as it unfolds, and how much resistance we put up in our internal and external struggle against reality. Perhaps true wisdom and virtue lie in acceptance, rather than in some conscious effort to warp our perception just to fit a specific worldview that might actually end up limiting our experience of living.

frozenraven5 said:We’re basically irrelevant, right? Except for in those little stories we spin inside our own heads. We're just buzzing around like flies trapped in a jar—some say it's covered once, others say multiple times, who even knows, doesn't matter—trying to force some kind of deep meaning onto things, kind of like how John Nash in *A Beautiful Mind* thought he was spotting secret codes in the newspapers.
Some people try to run away from that feeling by burying themselves in their jobs, others hide out in churches, and some go running to follow some guru’s every word—all just desperate attempts to find purpose or leave a mark because they're terrified of the void. Someone else might just sit down and meditate. Everyone’s got their own little distraction or "joy," even if that joy is just creating unnecessary drama and torturing themselves.
We exist today, then poof, we’re gone tomorrow. If the reason you’re even posting this is because of some massive social issue, think about it: if a car ran you over tomorrow, everyone would be back to business as usual in a few months like nothing ever happened. There is zero inherent meaning outside of ourselves. Life is just a rat race, plain and simple... maybe enlightenment is just that moment when you can finally stare straight into the abyss and just laugh your head off.
I swear, I always get stuck thinking about that old Zen story about the monk eating blackberries while dangling from a branch between a tiger and a snake. Does anyone actually live like that? Like, does anyone actually pull off that level of existence while still handling real-world responsibilities, paying the damn bills, and keeping up a social life?

Bravo! I couldn't agree more with everything you've said. That final question of yours is a true koan 🙂 hehe

steelmarlin19 said:Look, I’m not going to go point-by-point through everything you said—let's just keep it brief! First off—everyone is entitled to THEIR own opinion—and that goes for you, me, and every single person out there—so opinions don't have to match, and honestly, having a bunch of different perspectives on the SAME topic is actually better!

I never once said there are "special people" who are MORE valuable than everyone else, nor did I imply anyone is worth less because of any kind of deficiency—whether physical or otherwise—so we clearly had a bit of a misunderstanding there!

The whole point here is whether "chosen" people exist—meaning those gifted individuals with abilities far beyond the average person—and my stance is that I am absolutely convinced such people DO exist.

Your claim that God doesn't exist—which, by the way, is just your take (and you don't even know who my God actually is!)—is purely YOUR opinion without any actual proof, so it doesn't really carry much weight in a serious discussion.

And if you're insisting that "chosen" people DON'T exist, then what happened to legends like Buddha, Mozart, Einstein, Nikola Tesla, or Jesus Christ? They're gone, right?

I mean, does Jesus really have NO impact on this world? Seriously, what world are you living in? There are BILLIONS of people for whom He is the very MEANING of life, and His words are read every single day—not just in church, just so you know!

So, according to you, they weren't "chosen"—they just HAPPENED to possess qualities that none of us today have, and it just fell into their laps "from Mars" without any cause, just out of thin air. Truly "brilliant" logic there! Cheers! 🙂

I certainly didn't walk into this forum under the impression that I was going to come in here and bend the truth or reshape reality to suit my whims. I don't possess that kind of arrogance, nor, if I'm being perfectly honest, do I have any particular interest in playing such games.

I never actually suggested that there is such a thing as "special people" who possess more inherent value than the rest of us, nor did I ever imply that anyone should be viewed as less worthy because of any perceived shortcomings—be they physical or otherwise. It seems we’ve simply had a bit of a misunderstanding in how my words were interpreted.

You’ve certainly laid out a compelling argument there. If we follow your line of reasoning to its logical conclusion, an individual being "chosen" implies a conscious selection process—an intentional act carved out from among countless billions of life forms. Just try to wrap your head around the sheer magnitude of that decision; imagine the staggering complexity and the cosmic scale of the criteria required to make such a choice. Can one even begin to fathom a level of processing power or authority that vast? If we accept that something or someone has been selected, then it follows that the universe—or perhaps some conscious entity steering the ship—must possess a distinct preference. It suggests that at the very beginning, everything was placed within a specific metaphysical context or position. If geniuses are essentially gifted their brilliance by God, and if they are indeed "the chosen ones," then how exactly does that selection occur? What is the metric? Why wouldn't that same spark have been bestowed upon someone else instead? By your logic, if a person is truly chosen, they are stepping into a role akin to a messiah, tasked with steering the evolution of human society. And if that is the case, they would inherently hold a more significant, privileged station within the cosmos. But this leaves us with a profound question: among all the famous creators, inventors, and scientists we know, how could anyone possibly discern which ones were actually selected and which were simply lucky?

What should we make of those anonymous geniuses—those brilliant minds who simply never had the opportunity to step into the spotlight, or perhaps just couldn't fight the uphill battle to ensure their voices were actually heard? Because of that silence, we remain entirely unaware of them, and naturally, we don't go around labeling them as "special" or legendary. But if there truly exist individuals who have been hand-picked by God, yet they possess absolutely no influence over the trajectory of society, then one has to wonder: what exactly is their purpose? Since we are already drifting into the deep waters of discussing the concept of purpose itself, I find myself questioning why such greatness would exist without an audience.

Now, I don't mean to imply that there was any malice behind your reasoning—I truly believe you were just following a thread of thought—but if we were to strictly adhere to the logic you’re presenting, we run into a rather heavy philosophical dilemma. It suggests that every single human existence must possess an inherent purpose or a specific design, implying that people essentially "earn" the hand they are dealt in life. If we follow that path, one has to ask: what kind of merit could a child born with severe cognitive disabilities possibly have earned to justify such a struggle? Is that individual somehow responsible for their own condition, or is there a higher consciousness, perhaps even God, who holds the ultimate responsibility for how life is distributed? If we accept your premise, then we are forced to conclude that every instance of human suffering, along with every social injustice we witness, is ultimately the direct responsibility of a higher power from above.

There are certain individuals among us who possess truly extraordinary capabilities. Take, for instance, those on the autism spectrum—specifically those with Asperger's—who often demonstrate such remarkable cognitive prowess. Throughout history, we have seen many recorded as true geniuses, serving as a profound source of inspiration for much of humanity. One might wonder, how are such people "chosen"? Is there some higher design at play? In my view, the answer lies not in a preordained selection by some divine supervisor, but rather in a highly unique confluence of social and genetic factors. For a person to develop such a specific psychological profile, allowing them to dedicate themselves so intensely to their pursuits, there must be a precise foundation in place. It isn't something that simply falls from the sky; instead, it is the cumulative result of various circumstances, shaped by the interplay of natural and social forces, as well as the slow, steady hand of natural evolutionary selection.

Technically speaking, we stand at a threshold where we could potentially engineer a genius through genetic manipulation and eugenics. If that becomes our reality, it raises a rather profound question: can we still say a genius is someone chosen by God? It’s a heavy thought, isn't it? Imagine if we could essentially manufacture a figure like Nikola Tesla within the controlled environment of a laboratory, carefully selecting and stitching together specific genes to ensure they possess the exact cognitive traits and personality predispositions required for greatness. If we can bypass the slow, winding path of natural evolution to achieve such results, one has to wonder where the divine intention fits into the equation. Where does the hand of God reside when we start playing architect with the very blueprint of human brilliance?

Moving forward... look, I am certainly not suggesting that extraordinary or brilliant individuals don't exist. It is simply that I find myself at odds with your specific interpretation of what makes someone "special." Your entire perspective seems to hinge on the idea of purpose and intent. My contention, however, is that the cosmos and the natural world remain entirely indifferent to our frantic human attempts to manufacture meaning. The universe doesn't operate according to some pre-ordained master plan; rather, it functions through the fundamental laws of cause and effect—or, if you prefer the language of spiritualists, karma. This implies there is no need for a supernatural catalyst behind nature. Nature is perfectly sufficient unto itself; it is an ultra-complex, self-correcting, and self-regulating system that requires no external intervention to maintain its course.

How can you be so certain that this indifferent universe possesses any inherent meaning, purpose, or grand design specifically for humanity? What is a human being, truly, within this vast, unending expanse? I suspect you might be conflating a subjective sense of personal meaning—those individual reasons why one chooses to live—with a belief in an objective, absolute, and supernatural purpose.

This is how you see it:

View on imgur

Your assertion that God does not exist—and frankly, since you don't even know who my God actually is, your claim is moot—is merely your own opinion. Since you lack any empirical evidence to support it, your viewpoint holds very little weight in a serious intellectual discussion.

I seem to recall you rambling about extraterrestrials elsewhere, for which you also possess zero proof, so... at the end of the day, we are simply never going to see eye to eye.

And since you insist that there are no "chosen" people, tell me: do we not have figures today like Buddha, Mozart, Einstein, Nikola Tesla, or Jesus Christ?

We certainly do. However, they aren't significant to the universe or to nature itself; they are significant only to human beings, who are perpetually searching for someone onto whom they can project their desires, needs, and comforts. Humans are, by their very nature, slaves to their impulses and social hierarchies. We are particularly prone to becoming subordinates to spiritual or religious authorities. Just because certain individuals stand out within human society does not mean they are indispensable or hold any greater importance within the natural order of things. In many cases, some of them were simply well-marketed. If it hadn't been for the aggressive evangelists and the religious fanatics tearing through the Roman Empire, no one would even know about Jesus. He would have remained a local story—something that, had newspapers existed back then, might have barely made it into two lines of some mediocre tabloid. Similarly, if corporations hadn't pushed and pressured Tesla to collaborate with businessmen and sociopaths, we wouldn't even recognize his name today. Everything ultimately depends on who you know, your social circle, how stubborn you are, and your ability to navigate the complexities of human society. But all of this happens through natural means—biological and social evolution—without any hint of magic involved.

Does Jesus Christ really have NO influence on this world? Just what kind of world are you living in? There are BILLIONS of people for whom He is the very meaning of life, and His words are read daily, not just in churches, if you must know.

Even Harry Potter has positively influenced millions of people. Should we build cathedrals and establish religions in his name too? Don't you see the absurdity in that logic? Furthermore, you are talking about a subjective sense of meaning—an individual's reason for existing. I am speaking about objective meaning. There is no objective meaning or purpose to life, nor is there any requirement for one to exist.

No, they weren't "chosen." It’s just a massive coincidence that they happened to possess exactly what none of us sitting here today have, and apparently, this just fell into their laps like some sort of cosmic accident without any underlying cause. Honestly, it's a rather "brilliant" bit of logic if you think about it. Best, 🙂

Of course it's a coincidence. You see, without the human mind to interpret things, there are no gods, no inherent meanings, and certainly no grand intentions. If you strip humanity out of the equation, it becomes quite clear that nature itself possesses neither a personality nor a consciousness; we are simply the ones projecting those qualities onto it. Even in our everyday American vernacular, we often say things like "nature intended it this way," as if the wilderness actually harbors a conscious will. In reality, that's just a linguistic shorthand—a convention of speech—that shouldn't be taken as a literal truth.

steelmarlin19 said:Well, I say some people *are* chosen.

Go ahead—try to come up with something "genius" yourself if you think it's that easy, just so everyone knows who you are!

If someone isn't "chosen" for a specific path, they simply won't ever achieve it.

That implies there's something beyond nature—something that determines these "talents"—and we can call it God or whatever you like, but these "God-given gifts" definitely exist, since it's nearly impossible for a human to stumble upon any real talent all on their own.

We're born with our talents and we die with them—it's not our achievement, and it's certainly not the fault of a random nature that's just stumbling along. That's just my take on it. Cheers! ☕

Your God doesn't exist, and neither does any other, so there is nothing to choose from. 🙂

There is no selection process, and there is no universal, objective purpose. Certainly, a person can be exceptional, unique, possessing a specific set of abilities, but no one facilitated or granted that to them. Regarding conscious intent, one might say it "fell from the sky" almost literally. Behavior and development within the natural world are dictated by complex mathematical algorithms. No matter how intricate those algorithms may be, these clever, complex systems do not possess a sense of value, nor do they make choices in the human sense of the word. Everything we possess has been acquired through natural means—via natural and social selection—and if it hasn't, then it is unnatural, which is to say, impossible. What determines whether something is natural or not is simple: if it obeys the physical laws just like everything else, from the smallest bosons to the largest galaxy clusters and potential universes, then it exists within the chain of cause and effect—within the natural laws of the cosmos. If it doesn't, if it breaks that order through some sort of "miracle," then we are talking about divine intervention, which sounds more like a story out of Harry Potter.

Well, I suppose I am just "tilting at windmills" here. On this subforum, 99.99% of people subscribe to a teleological view of meaning. 🙂

While you argue that "uniqueness" isn't an individual achievement but rather the work of gods or God, I would argue that it belongs to absolutely no one. Nature possesses no intention, nor does it have a human character. Anything a person claims about nature outside of objective observation is, at best, speculation, and at worst, anthropomorphism—projecting human traits onto the natural world.

Your interpretation inevitably introduces a kind of Platonic, aristocratic chauvinism; the idea that certain special people are inherently better than others, granting them a right to privileged status in society. It is this very logic that has, for millennia, upheld the "sanctity" of religious institutions and individuals, allowing them to exert authority over others.

"Try to invent something 'genius' that someone else hasn't." What kind of nonsense is that? What even defines "genius"? By your logic, every creator is necessarily superior and more privileged than anyone else. Let's not forget that many of these individuals you hold up above the rest only achieved global recognition largely due to marketing—essentially, favorable social circumstances. If society hadn't stepped in to turn them into heroes, we wouldn't even know their names, and I suspect there are countless such individuals who simply weren't able to sell themselves well. How do you explain the existence of these "special" people whom God supposedly blessed, yet who have zero actual impact on the world or the course of history? And by what criteria are they "chosen"? Why are some more special or privileged than others? What about the geniuses who lacked the social climate, the funding, or the connections to break through and be noticed? In that case, their uniqueness is functionally useless since it fails to influence the world. If we are going to follow that line of reasoning, anyway.

Certain types of introverted geniuses—those living with autism or Asperger's, for instance—possess specific cognitive strengths that seem to operate on a much higher frequency than the general population. However, we aren't just guessing at the reason behind this "uniqueness"; we actually understand the root cause. It all traces back to pure genetics. And when I say that, I don't mean a simple, straight line of inheritance from parent to child, but rather the complex reality of specific genes propagating through the population via mathematical logarithms and shifting probabilities. In this light, these extraordinary abilities aren't some mystical gifts; they are essentially the byproduct of evolutionary processes that weren't designed, orchestrated, or even intended by any higher power.

If that's the case, how are we supposed to view individuals dealing with intellectual disabilities or those with a hereditary predisposition toward psychosis and schizophrenia? Are we to suggest they possess less inherent value, or perhaps imply they somehow earned their circumstances?

There aren't any choices to be made here because there is no such thing as choice. If an individual possesses a trait that others lack, it’s no different from one animal species having a biological capability that another simply doesn't; it isn't a matter of merit, but rather a stroke of blind chance. One can see the same logic applied to social standing. Some people are born with the temperament of a fighter, while others are naturally passive or possess entirely different dispositions—none of this is earned or selected through will.

If we were actually making conscious choices, we would essentially be breaking the natural chain of cause and effect. Think about it: could you truly make a decision right this second that would retroactively alter the conditions and consequences of the past moments that led you to this very instant? To do so, one would have to exist above nature and act from a position outside of the natural order, which just isn't possible. Things simply unfold; they don't require some grand reason or inherent purpose to happen.

Even those self-proclaimed enlightened gurus are really just individuals who happen to possess a certain subtle narcissism, a silver tongue, and just enough charisma to stand out and convince people of their uniqueness. Their "specialness" is nothing more than their capacity to influence others, and even that isn't a divine gift—it's just a specific part of their psychological makeup.

Ryan Wilson2 said:Well, we’re on an alternative platform now, so we might as well speculate. 😁

The stability of our entire financial system relies heavily on those who hold the most capital—the massive corporations, the Illuminati, and so on. Because of that, there isn't any real danger to the status quo. Stock trading, the stock exchanges, and all that business aren't much different from gambling if you don't possess
the necessary insider information.

And how does one quickly pull in another million when you control everything? It couldn't be easier:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_Flash_Crash

(though I highly doubt anyone will actually bother reading this 😁)

So, the premise is that the financial market is controlled by a small group of people. By doing so, they can manipulate the masses. The question remains... why?

I'm not ruling out the possibilities suggested by the likes of Aikavci

But, staying true to the spirit of the topic, perhaps the craving for conspiracy theories is merely a camouflaged longing for religiosity? A desire for there to be something above us controlling things, thereby providing a sense of purpose to our lives. After all, I see no fundamental difference in the logic: whether we are being watched over by an almighty God because we are special, or being watched over by an evil Alien because we are tasty.

Imagine the horror if we were to realize that neither God, nor reptiles, nor the Illuminati exist... and that we are simply left entirely to our own devices. 😲

I have this nagging fear that the final scenario is actually the reality. 🙂

bluemason3 said:So, did you make it back from the party feeling totally wired or just plain exhausted? 😁

It honestly crossed my mind as well. 🙂

Amanda Vaughn3 said:In Buddhism, physical reality is an illusion (maya). 😉

In Buddhism, the concept of "illusion" isn't really about some false divide between the physical world and a non-physical one—that’s a bit of a misunderstanding. It’s more about our own psychological attachment to concepts, like the idea of a permanent self (whether you call it high or low), or our refusal to accept mortality and the inevitable shifts in ourselves and in Nature. At its core, we're talking about attachment and reactivity in all its various forms. It feels much more like a matter of individual human Psyche and how we perceive our surroundings rather than a statement about objective reality itself. If we look at it that way, Nirvana would be a kind of "numbing" or letting go of those attachments to object-oriented models of existence and human experience. In that light, traditional notions like the soul or the spirit basically just dissolve into nothingness...

Ryan Wilson2 said:Physical reality cannot be an illusion.

An illusion can only exist if one mistakes their own identity—the soul or the spirit—for physical reality. Of course, that assumes you even believe in the existence of a soul or spirit to begin with. 😁

In my view, the true illusion lies in our tendency to project meaning and intention onto natural processes—what many label as "spirit"—where none truly exists. It’s much like how we understand at a subatomic level that matter is essentially a constant, seamless interaction with its surroundings. To me, "spirit" functions more as a metaphor for the profound interconnectedness of all things at a foundational level.

The concept of the soul serves as a religious metaphor for the idea that a person possesses individuality—that distinct sense of "I" or "mine," which encompasses our emotions, desires, motivations, and personal struggles.

Throughout history, humans have always felt there was something more to them than just their biological base, leading them to speculate that this "other" layer of reality was somehow detached from the physical world. This gave rise to all sorts of theories regarding different dimensions, gods, souls, or energies. But if we look at it through a modern lens, we can see that what people called the soul is, in fact, just the psyche. We don't need to lean on superstitions to acknowledge the existence of the human psyche.

In the ongoing tug-of-war between objective reality and our own subjective perspectives, reality is always going to come out on top. It doesn't matter how much it bruises the ego or how aggressively it dismantles every convenient little concept we’ve built for ourselves to feel secure; the truth remains indifferent to our comfort. In most cases, truth tends to occupy that uncomfortable spectrum of the human experience that we’d rather just ignore.

If what we call "spiritual work" is truly intended to lead us straight into that existential void, then spirituality serves as a genuine ally to the truth. Anything else is really just a collection of wishful-thinking delusions designed to soothe the psyche and sustain the tidy little narratives we construct about ourselves and the world around us.

@Tiger Lily

You hit the nail on the head regarding our primal, instinctive nature. At the end of the day, we belong to the primate genus Homo sapiens—essentially self-aware animals navigating a complex world.

When it comes to spirituality, I’ve always felt the core concept should involve integrating all the different facets of our personality and our society. We’re talking about weaving together empathy, rationality, wisdom, and those other virtues, whether they remain mere ideals or actually manifest in our daily lives.

The problem I see with most spiritual teachings is that they tend to lean toward either hating certain parts of our nature or over-idealizing vague notions like "human nature" or "self-awareness." It’s all very fuzzy. Specifically, they ignore the cognitive, or mental, aspect of being human, which is something we haven't truly mastered or learned to self-regulate yet. Evolution shaped us this way, and our social structures have reinforced it. Our best bet isn't chasing ghosts; it’s simply accepting our inherent limitations and working hard to optimize our mental, emotional, and ethical hygiene. To do that effectively, we need to understand our actual boundaries and capabilities. We are a long way from achieving some grand "enlightenment" or any of those other lofty fantasies.

If you strip away all fear and neurosis, you aren't left with a saint; you're just looking at a psychopath or someone in a vegetative state. Everything else that draws breath survives through stress. Stress is the fundamental mechanism that keeps the gears of the universe turning.

Sam Martinez9 said:Daniel Castillo11

You seem to be contradicting yourself a bit.

First, you claim: "...this started happening to me once I let go of all those illusions and self-deceptions regarding the supernatural..."

Only to follow that up by saying: "...but no matter how much I let go or reflect, I am still just a man who cannot break his own nature..."

If you’ve truly cast aside the illusion of the supernatural, shouldn't you have already accepted that you are simply a man incapable of defying his own nature?

Once we strip away the supernatural, all that remains is the human being as a biological entity—a product of nature and evolution, much like a lion is a product of nature and evolution. In that framework, a person's nature is their essence, and there is simply no way to break it.

It seems to me that your ability to read for actual comprehension often skips over certain nuances.

What I was actually getting at in my previous post is that while I cannot break my nature, nor can I undergo a radical transformation, I can certainly loosen my grip on it. I can practice a sort of Stoic acceptance of who I am and work toward letting go of my attachment to my own identity. This doesn't imply that I'll suddenly transform into some enlightened guru from an old myth or ascend to become a Quincy; I remain a social animal, a primate of the Homo sapiens lineage who tries, somewhat, to curb his own selfishness and narrow-mindedness—if only to maintain a sense of psychological and moral stability.

Ryan Wilson2 said:I occasionally feel as though I am brushing against another dimension entirely. If only I could trigger those encounters more intensely, precisely when I choose to.

As for everything else, I find myself becoming a harder, colder person. My faith in humanity has eroded; I’ve become less tolerant, less soft, and far less inclined toward spiritual philosophizing. Nothing in this life is inherently "meant to be"—it is simply what we force it to become. I have grown deeply skeptical of most spiritual practices and movements, as I am convinced most of them operate solely through the placebo effect, mere delusion, or fear—some sort of hardwired psychological mechanism within the brain.

To most self-proclaimed spiritualists, I would simply suggest seeing a licensed psychologist instead. It would save them both time and money, given that the results are functionally identical to anything promised by "spiritual growth."

Wisdom, tolerance, and knowledge are ultimately futile when the world is governed by the law of the jungle.

The only real path to change lies in the physical evolution of the human race into something else entirely—a being liberated from the primal urges of greed, reproduction, and mindless hedonism. Those who claim to have transcended these instincts likely just lack the resources to indulge them, relying on self-delusion or autohypnosis to elevate themselves above the harsh realities of this world. And when all is said and done, people always fall back on the concept of reincarnation just to justify the injustices they've faced.

When one contemplates the nature of "other worlds," I find myself drifting between two distinct interpretations, much like a sailor navigating between a fog-covered coastline and the clear, open sea. On one hand, there is the compelling argument that such concepts serve as profound metaphors for the creative process itself—those internal landscapes where an idea begins to take shape, swirling in the mind like a storm brewing over the Atlantic before finally breaking into reality. In this sense, an "other world" is simply the vast, uncharted territory of human imagination, a place where we build structures out of nothing but thought and intuition. On the other hand, I have often found myself pondering whether these realms might exist in a more literal, physical sense, perhaps occupying dimensions that our current scientific understanding hasn't quite managed to map out yet. It’s a bit like wondering if there are undiscovered islands in the middle of the Pacific; just because we haven't charted them doesn't mean they aren't sitting there, waiting to be found. So, I suppose my view is a bit of a blend of both—an appreciation for the psychological depth of the metaphor, paired with a quiet, lingering curiosity about whether the universe holds more secrets than we can currently perceive.

Quincy:

As for everything else, I suppose I have become a somewhat diminished version of my former self; I find myself possessing much less faith in the human race, feeling significantly less tolerant, and lacking that soft, easygoing nature I once held. Even that certain spiritual, philosophical inclination I used to carry has largely evaporated. It seems to me now that nothing exists in its ideal state by default; rather, things are simply shaped by our own hands and intentions. I’ve grown quite skeptical regarding most spiritual practices and various belief systems, as I am increasingly convinced that the majority of them function merely through a placebo effect, simple wishful thinking, or perhaps some other psychological mechanism hardwired into the American psyche.

I have been suggesting for quite some time now that beneath the surface of those self-proclaimed spiritualists and starry-eyed idealists, there actually lurks a deep-seated misanthropy; it is just that the illusion of being socially useful and self-sustaining is far more seductive than any raw impulse to seek out the truth or confront hard facts. Of course, this isn't just an indictment of one specific clique or social circle, but rather a fundamental observation regarding the entire human race. It seems we simply aren't biologically wired to be hunters of objective truth, but are instead designed to simply... exist and live our lives. Most of what we consider to be our decisions, our deepest hopes, or even our most burning motivations aren't really products of free will at all; instead, they are the result of instinctive, unconscious processing within the brain and body, heavily layered with the conditioning imposed upon us by society. Ultimately, everything that has been pressed into us, or resides within us, is exactly what constitutes who we are.

When you step back and look at the actual techniques being used and the tangible results they yield, it all really boils down to a very specific kind of individual psychotherapy. It’s not just about clinical methods, though; it’s this deeply layered process that weaves in substantial doses of philosophy alongside concepts like finding one's purpose, navigating morality, leaning on social support systems, and shaping one's entire worldview. It’s much more holistic than that—almost like trying to tune a complex instrument by adjusting both the strings and the very air in the room.

I often find myself suggesting that most clergy ought to consider trading their pulpits for a therapist's couch, if only because it would save everyone an immense amount of both time and money. In my estimation, the psychological breakthroughs one achieves through clinical counseling are virtually indistinguishable from those sought through various paths of "spiritual development." It’s much like how someone might spend years studying ancient philosophy to find inner peace when a simple session with a counselor in downtown Chicago could yield the exact same clarity in a fraction of the time.

I find myself nodding along with that recommendation. I’m speaking from my own lived experience here, really. It becomes particularly vital when you're dealing with someone who has drifted quite far into a state of deep mental fog—someone struggling just to navigate the basic requirements of a normal day. At that stage, it starts to look less like simple stress and more like a profound neurosis, or perhaps something even more complex and heavy.

Quincy:

It seems rather futile to go around offering up tolerance, wisdom, or even a shred of genuine knowledge when, at the end of the day, the world continues to be governed by the law of the jungle—where the strongest hand always holds the deck.

Virtues have always been somewhat abstract concepts to me. In a textbook or some lofty theoretical debate, they seem absolutely wonderful and perfectly clear, but when you actually step out into the real world, those ideals rarely seem to show up on the radar. Not that I’m trying to make sweeping generalizations here—that would be a mistake, as everything truly depends on an endless variety of shifting factors. It can be incredibly difficult to untangle what is actually reality from what is merely fiction, or to distinguish what is genuinely useful from what is just plain useless. Distinguishing between the two requires a great deal of intellect, a significant amount of time, and, most importantly, a wealth of lived experience.

Quincy:

The only genuine path toward any kind of meaningful change lies in the physical evolution of the human species into an entirely different kind of being—one that has finally shed the primal shackles of greed, the drive to reproduce, and that endless, exhausting pursuit of hedonism. It’s almost like trying to outrun our own shadows. I often think about those people who claim they have already ascended past these basic instincts; in my estimation, it’s usually just a convenient bit of self-delusion or perhaps a touch of self-hypnosis used to cope with the fact that they lack the financial means or the social standing to actually command their reality. It serves them well, really, acting as a psychological buffer to help them feel superior to a world they can't quite grasp. And when all is said and done, we inevitably fall back on the concept of reincarnation, don't we? It’s the ultimate cosmic safety net, providing a tidy little explanation for all the injustices we face, allowing us to believe that everything will eventually balance out in some future life.

The core issue lies in how almost every religion, philosophy, and branch of metaphysics has spent centuries idealizing the human condition, essentially worshipping our own potential. They push this narrative of human supremacy—this idea that we possess the inherent power to bend reality to our will. It’s quite obvious, then, that both society at large and the individual consumer are effectively being built upon a foundation of pure illusion.

Then there is the psychological hurdle, which I find just as troubling: the human tendency to hunt for the path of least resistance. On one hand, you have people who adopt an extreme, nihilistic outlook, painting everything in the darkest possible shades just to dodge any semblance of actual responsibility or hard work. On the other hand, you see this overly romanticized, hippie-style idealism used as a way to pacify opponents or opposing ideologies, which is really just another clever way to sidestep accountability. In both scenarios, the underlying motivation is rooted in escapism, denial, or self-deception, even when it’s dressed up to look like profound wisdom.

Baphomet, it certainly doesn't look like we're seeing much in the way of biological evolution anytime soon, at least not for another few million years. 🙂

Unless, of course, you're pinning all your hopes on transhumanism or some burgeoning new cyber-religion. 🙂

I find myself nodding along with the others regarding the themes of self-delusion and sheer ignorance; if there is any meaningful takeaway here, that is truly it. All those other supposed side effects—the sense of relaxation, those fleeting "feel-good" rushes, or that naive brand of optimism and ambition—they all tend to evaporate once a person actually matures. In my own experience, chasing lofty goals and getting swept up in idealistic fervor only served to breed neurosis within me, creating this obsessive hyper-focus on "higher planes" and "deeper insights." If I’m being honest with myself, it was little more than an escapist compensation for a lack of social standing, a certain passivity, and a deep-seated existential dread.

The only other positive outcome I can recall, now that I think about it, is a reduction in reactivity—developing somewhat healthier patterns of thought, belief, and behavior. Regarding selfishness, one could argue that the fundamental ideal of spirituality should be the diminishment of self-absorption, egocentrism, and constant self-referencing. Yet, looking around, it seems this is precisely what many practitioners fail to achieve. For me, this shift only began to manifest once I abandoned the illusions and self-deceptions surrounding the supernatural, the unreachable, and the purely imaginary. It happened when I started balancing the application of reason with the practice of letting go of attachments. However, no matter how much I meditate or attempt to release these grips, I remain a human being unable to fully override my own nature—that primal instinct for self-preservation which keeps us all essentially trapped within our own subjective perspectives. That said, I do believe this attachment can be loosened, and that is the work I am currently engaged in. To even attempt this, I had to discard the vast majority of my previous convictions. It was only after I embraced atheism that I actually began to practice true spirituality. 🙂

mellowsailor95 said:As far as I can tell, the real issue lies in the fact that Masons worship an "Architect" of the world, and to plenty of people, that figure is none other than the Unclean.

On a different note, regarding meditation: it isn't incompatible with Christianity at all, especially Catholicism. In fact, there are extensive writings on the subject by figures like St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross.

Meditation runs through everything written by the foundress of the Discalced Carmelites; she believed it was the only true path to an Encounter with God residing within ourselves. That’s why you have to shut out the external noise, find stillness, and contemplate... which is essentially just what meditation is.

The phrase "Great Architect of the Universe" really just refers to a generic concept of God, which people tend to interpret through their own unique lenses. You have some Masons who are quite theistic and religious, viewing this architect as the specific God of their own tradition or faith, while others lean toward deism or even panentheism, meaning their "Great Architect" isn't necessarily tied to any particular organized religion.

If we look back at the original Enlightenment-era Masons from the late 17th and early 18th centuries, they were much more deists in practice than they were theists. Their focus was primarily on humanist virtues and acting morally within the world, modeled after the idealized order they simulated within the Lodge. While the invocations of God or theological virtues are essentially leftovers from religious Renaissance humanism, the emphasis on secular morality grew out of the Enlightenment era and its anti-clerical sentiments. In that sense, Freemasonry hasn't historically adhered to a strictly Catholic format, even though a significant portion of its rituals and symbols draw from Judeo-Christian mythology and tradition.

So, you could say that Freemasonry contains elements of Abrahamic tradition alongside secular humanism—specifically, its precursors found in post-Renaissance humanism. Consequently... one might argue that Freemasonry is incompatible with Catholicism because there is no mention of Jesus and no real theological sermons. Any mention of God within Masonic Lodges tends to be more deistic than theistic, yet quite a few Masons manage to practice Catholicism and Freemasonry side-by-side without a second thought.

When you step back and look at it, historically and ideologically, Freemasonry isn't a religion itself, nor is it a separate faith, though it does borrow certain elements. On the flip side, it isn't purely secular or atheistic either, given its deep roots in humanism. Ultimately, I suppose it comes down to the individual—whether they personally feel that their religious life and their Masonic involvement are at odds. Personally, I suspect most people don't see it as a conflict at all.

There is simply no basis for claiming that the "Great Architect" is a demon or anything overly mystical or exclusive to Masonry. If you take a moment to study the ideological frameworks of the French Revolution or the deistic movements that preceded it—perhaps glancing at the writings of Spinoza or John Toland—you won't find any demonology or dark mythology. The idea of God is originally deistic, but in practical application, everyone uses it as they see fit. Truly, no one is thinking of the Christian devil when they invoke the Great Architect—that's mostly just the domain of conspiracy theorists and believers who view everything through a lens of "evil influences."

By the way, regarding meditation, it is by no means incompatible with Christianity, especially Catholicism; in fact, both St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross advocate for it and write extensively about it in their prefaces.

That is correct. Various forms and interpretations of that concept have existed since the beginning of time.

Meditation runs through all the works of the foundress of the Discalced Carmelites, and she maintained that it is the sole path toward an Encounter with God, who resides within ourselves. That is why it is necessary to detach from external influences, to find stillness, to contemplate... which is to meditate.

Listen, Štima. Every single tradition carries its own internal, subjective methodology—a unique way of framing and approaching its very own definition of what is holy.

I suspect that for those wandering the spiritual path, the technicalities of whether the Self is eternal, enduring, or merely fleeting are actually secondary concerns. What truly matters is the practical dilemma: once I am confronted with this "Self," what am I supposed to do with it? Or more fundamentally, "who am I?" and "what am I?" We don't really need a collection of discursive theories or conceptual frameworks to address this; rather, we need the direct experience that arises from embodying the mystery—living fully within the present moment that the question itself points toward. These inquiries are essentially just triggers. Even practicing mindfulness, whether one uses a mantra or stays silent, doesn't inherently settle the heavy questions like "does the human soul exist?" or "is there life after death?" Personal experience alone isn't quite enough to provide a definitive answer to those cosmic mysteries, though it serves as an excellent catalyst for asking them and for expanding our awareness in every direction. Maintaining that sense of openness is the absolute prerequisite for achieving a truly holistic perception.

Even if we consider the possibility that the Self is simply a sophisticated illusion manufactured by the brain—a sort of hyper-symbol or a "memeplex," as Susan Blackmore describes it—we are still left staring at the profound mystery of that very Self as it manifests through our embodied experience in the here and now.

I've gathered a few articles on the subject that might interest you:

http://garynini.com/ist-trasicorr.htm
http://garynini.com/ist-koan.htm
http://www.focusing.org/gendlin/gol_all_focusing.asp
http://www.susanblackmore.co.uk/Chapters/awaken.html