Posts by fadedbison17

Louis, you're basically trying to claim everything is a cognitive faculty by denying the existence of cognitive faculties itself. You deny what consciousness is, then turn around and say everything *is* consciousness... I just can't get behind that definition. You even admitted that terms like "consciousness" and "awareness" are already defined based on existing human knowledge—so maybe pick a word that actually fits what you’re trying to describe?

I'm not sure what that word would be, but maybe if you tried walking through your logic step-by-step—showing how you landed on this one word that supposedly covers everything—you'd see how many concepts and definitions you've had to twist just to make them fit your philosophy. Then, maybe, you'd find an expression that actually suits the concept you're explaining.

I think if you want anyone else to actually buy into your philosophy, the first thing you need to do is fix that part... otherwise, you're just asking people to agree with you based on faith (basically, just accepting your personal assumptions about what words mean), and I'm guessing that's not really the goal for a philosopher.

I honestly can't follow your train of thought because you take terms that seem perfectly clear to me and use them differently without explaining why... it makes it impossible to grasp. I'm trying to wrap my head around the metaphysical and epistemological sides of your ideas, but since your terminology is so ambiguous, the link between those two branches stays blurry. It doesn't even offer simple questions or answers because of all that vagueness.

The only reason you can even use terms like "consciousness" or "awareness" is because they already have established meanings—since humans discovered and defined them—so it's a bit weird to expect others (from my perspective, anyway) to understand you when you use those same words to explain your philosophy while giving them totally different meanings. If none of the terms actually mean anything, then nothing you're explaining makes sense.

In my view, the foundation of any philosophy should be its metaphysics—answering "what exists?"—which then leads to epistemology, answering "how do I know?".
Based on your posts, I'd say your metaphysics is pretty hazy and arbitrary, which spills over into your epistemology where words don't have fixed meanings, just whatever you decide they are at the moment.
If the main trait of your philosophy is just being arbitrary, then it isn't something applicable to everyone—it only works for someone who chooses to believe you. When you say, "the answer is self-evident here," it doesn't hold water because you're stripping the meaning away from the very words you're using.

Can I throw out one epistemological question? How do you actually construct your concepts and definitions? For example, what is a chair, and how did you arrive at that conclusion?

Hope I'm not being a pain, just trying to pull the discussion back a step so we can actually understand each other...

restlessridge36 said:Krešo, you aren't even remotely correct. The only reality you need to concern yourself with is your own illiteracy. 😬 😱

Thanks for the heads-up—fixed those typos as best I could (see below)...
Alright, give it a read and tell me—why am I not even close to being right?... 🙂

fadedbison17 said:Sandra Wilson68,

You're saying: active and engaged consciousness = reality = awareness.

Looking at your whole post, I feel like you're mixing up terms—kind of swapping their meanings... you're jumping from one perspective (reality depends on consciousness) to another (consciousness depends on reality), which makes sense since you've basically merged them together.

Let me lay out my take and why I think you've got it wrong:
Consciousness has to be active and engaged. Simple proof—try to prove it isn't, and just notice what happens... you end up thinking about the process and using your own consciousness (meaning, you're conscious).

I really think it's vital to separate consciousness from reality.
Not everything (reality) relies on consciousness; consciousness just serves to perceive reality (and that's pretty much its whole job).

So how does consciousness actually work?
*Consciousness handles extraspection (that outward-facing perception of things existing in the external world) and introspection (the inward-facing process of understanding your own psychological moves relative to what's happening in the outside world; things like thinking, feeling, remembering, etc. Consciousness perceives reality—that’s all it does.

Just to reiterate since this seems fuzzy to you—how can consciousness *do that? Because reality exists (which is something distinct from consciousness).

I want to be as clear as possible so we're on the same page, so here are a few examples to help distinguish reality from consciousness:
- imagine a guy sitting in a field in Montana, watching a river flow in the distance. That river is part of reality (outside of consciousness) and it keeps flowing whether he's thinking about it or not. So, reality doesn't depend on consciousness. For anything to be perceived—for there to even be awareness—that river has to exist first (reality, something independent of consciousness).
- if a guy comes home exhausted from a shift at Ford and his wife starts yelling at him, he feels this mix of helplessness and anger (caused by the wife—the trigger isn't his consciousness, it's reality, something existing outside of himself).
- if a guy is dwelling on something that happened, he's using consciousness to replay an event that took place in reality, outside of his mind.

In the real world, we notice that certain entities (things that exist in reality) possess consciousness.
We reached that conclusion just by observing these entities. Basically, we noticed some entities (humans and certain animals) have the ability to perceive. We called that ability "awareness," and the entity that makes it possible is what we call "consciousness."
Some entities (like a rock, water, etc.) don't have consciousness. We came up with the word "consciousness" to differentiate the traits of entities that have it from those that don't—if everything was consciousness, there'd be no way to tell one thing from another, and we wouldn't even have a name for it.

What is consciousness? It's a characteristic of an entity (a human or certain animals). Without those entities, there is no consciousness. All entities are part of reality.

People don't use the word "consciousness" to explain every single thing in existence; they used it to name the specific ability that allows them to make sense of reality.
That ability (awareness), much like everything else that exists (reality), has its own specific traits and functions (it can be directed outward, inward, etc.).

Does that make sense?

Sandra Wilson68,

You're saying: active and engaged consciousness = reality = awareness.

Looking at your whole post, I feel like you're mixing up terms—kind of swapping their meanings... you're jumping from one perspective (reality depends on consciousness) to another (consciousness depends on reality), which makes sense since you've basically merged them together.

Let me lay out my take and why I think you've got it wrong:
Consciousness has to be active and engaged. Simple proof—try to prove it isn't, and just notice what happens... you end up thinking about the process and using your own consciousness (meaning, you're conscious).

I really think it's vital to separate consciousness from reality.
Not everything (reality) relies on consciousness; consciousness just serves to perceive reality (and that's pretty much its whole job).

So how does consciousness actually work?
*Consciousness handles extraspection (that outward-facing perception of things existing in the external world) and introspection (the inward-facing process of understanding your own psychological moves relative to what's happening in the outside world; things like thinking, feeling, remembering, etc. Consciousness perceives reality—that’s all it does.

Just to reiterate since this seems fuzzy to you—how can consciousness *do that? Because reality exists (which is something distinct from consciousness).

I want to be as clear as possible so we're on the same page, so here are a few examples to help distinguish reality from consciousness:
- imagine a guy sitting in a field in Montana, watching a river flow in the distance. That river is part of reality (outside of consciousness) and it keeps flowing whether he's thinking about it or not. So, reality doesn't depend on consciousness. For anything to be perceived—for there to even be awareness—that river has to exist first (reality, something independent of consciousness).
- if a guy comes home exhausted from a shift at Ford and his wife starts yelling at him, he feels this mix of helplessness and anger (caused by the wife—the trigger isn't his consciousness, it's reality, something existing outside of himself).
- if a guy is dwelling on something that happened, he's using consciousness to replay an event that took place in reality, outside of his mind.

In the real world, we notice that certain entities (things that exist in reality) possess consciousness.
We reached that conclusion just by observing these entities. Basically, we noticed some entities (humans and certain animals) have the ability to perceive. We called that ability "awareness," and the entity that makes it possible is what we call "consciousness."
Some entities (like a rock, water, etc.) don't have consciousness. We came up with the word "consciousness" to differentiate the traits of entities that have it from those that don't—if everything was consciousness, there'd be no way to tell one thing from another, and we wouldn't even have a name for it.

What is consciousness? It's a characteristic of an entity (a human or certain animals). Without those entities, there is no consciousness. All entities are part of reality.

People don't use the word "consciousness" to explain every single thing in existence; they used it to name the specific ability that allows them to make sense of reality.
That ability (awareness), much like everything else that exists (reality), has its own specific traits and functions (it can be directed outward, inward, etc.).

Does that make sense?

placidranger said:Hold on—are we all agreeing that people just create their own "reality" by interpreting what’s around them?
So, it isn't that thoughts actually influence the physical environment, but rather that they shape one's internal interpretation of that environment.

Look, people have a set way of processing reality—you've got specific cognitive abilities, and that's the only lens you've got to work with.

Reality is singular, but every single person perceives it differently.
Think about it—say you and someone who's blind are in the same room.
They’re going to be aware of the room and what's going on in a totally different way than you are, but you're both experiencing the exact same room (the same reality)...

Everyone builds their own version of reality—yeah, if you mean that humans have consciousness and can only understand things through that.

That second part of yours—'...that it affects their interpretation of the environment'—is a bit fuzzy for me. A person can't really choose their cognitive faculties.
You can shift your focus—like leaning more into sight than hearing, for example—but you can't just invent a new sense out of thin air, any more than you could invent a new aspect of reality itself...

We on the same page?

Sandra Wilson68 said:Krešo2 Quote

Alright, I've been paying attention too.

I think there’s only one reality, and the reason you can't wrap your head around explaining it is because you've made this huge assumption that "the self" is some massive deal—basically deciding it's the beginning and the end of everything. Honestly, maybe without even realizing it, you're leaning on Descartes' whole "I think, therefore I am" thing, which is just plain wrong. The "self" you're obsessing over? That's just consciousness.

Thanks for "paying attention" and giving me something to do. Honestly, replying to your post was a great way to kill some time and deal with the boredom of being retired.

Alright, here’s how it goes:
You're right—there’s only one reality, and I’m out here doing my best to make sense of it. But honestly, the real question is: am I actually getting through to anyone? Do you think I'm tripping by putting the "self" at the very center of reality? Because I'm dead certain I'm not. The way I'm talking about the "self" is worlds apart from how Descartes saw it. Let me break it down for you:

Descartes just stumbled upon one way to prove the "self" exists—basically saying that because we can perform mental acts, specifically thinking, then we exist. Personally, I’m not buying into such a narrow view. I’ve used plenty of other mental processes to prove my own existence—stuff like perceiving, feeling, remembering, and understanding. Even physical stuff, like exerting effort or moving around, counts. Every single one of these mental and physical actions serves as proof of our own existence, or what I call the "self."

Look, I’ve actually moved past Descartes at this point. My takeaway is that proving a "self" exists is really just proving one specific slice of reality. The other half? That’s all physical and mental actions. But here’s the catch: those exact same actions are what we use to try and prove the "self" exists in the first place. It creates this massive loop. How can the "self" even prove that these physical and mental actions exist at all?

Physical and mental actions get proven the exact same way we prove "the self"—just in reverse. Think about it: we use our physical and mental actions to prove that the "self" exists, but now those same actions are proven by the "self" itself. After all, the "self" is the one actually doing the work and knowing it's doing it.

Look, here’s how I see it: reality is split right down the middle. You’ve got the "self" on one side, and then you've got all the physical and mental stuff we actually do on the other. The "self" is the driver—the cause. Everything else? That's just the effect. The "self" exists absolutely in relation to its actions, while those physical and mental moves only exist relatively, basically only in the moment they're actually happening.

Look, you’re obviously going to argue that reality isn't just some isolated bubble made up of our "self" and our physical or mental actions. That's a flaw in the logic. Reality includes everything sitting outside that "self"—everything our "self" observes and becomes aware of through those same physical and mental processes, just like we become aware of ourselves.

Even after you wrap your head around all this, you still have to ask: what actually makes up reality? Is it just three pieces stuck together? First, our "self." Second, everything we physically do and think. And third, that whole massive world outside our own heads that we’re just perceiving?

Let's start by tackling the big one: how does our "self" even exist in the first place?

The answer just forces itself on you.

Our "self" makes it pretty damn easy to prove its own existence just by the way we act, both physically and mentally.

So, how do our physical and mental actions even exist in the first place?

And the answer goes without saying here.

Our physical and mental actions only happen because of our "self"—that's the thing that actually makes them possible. And let's be real: the "self" wouldn't even exist if it couldn't perform those actions, just like those actions wouldn't exist without a "self" to carry them out. Our "self" and its capacity for action are totally inseparable, indestructible, and can't be manufactured. You can't use your own mind or body to build someone else's "self," and your "self" can't step in and pull off someone else's moves. It’s pretty simple: the "self" exists solely on its own terms, and nobody else's.

So how does that whole slice of reality outside our own "self" even exist? You know, the stuff our "self" decides is real just by going through its physical and mental motions.

The answer is pretty damn obvious if you think about it.

Reality outside our "self" exists just as much as we do. Every little thing and every massive object that our "self" perceives—confirming its existence through its own physical and mental actions—exists on its own terms.

Here’s the catch: no matter how big or small an object is, it can’t actually perceive anyone else's "self" besides its own through its actions. It can only witness the physical movements of others, nothing deeper. Other "selves" are totally unreachable. This entire material universe we think we see is really just a collection of physical and mental actions from countless tiny and massive "selves" hiding right at the core of those actions.

And honestly, that’s the root of the problem. Because we can’t actually see anyone else's "self"—only their outward actions—we have no clue how reality truly functions, which forces us to just believe whatever bullshit comes our way.

Basically, the biggest issue isn't understanding how reality works; it's that we don't even ask how *we* exist. Instead, we lean on our senses and ask how reality exists. But our senses can't see the true reality, because reality is composed of infinite "selves" existing outside and apart from our own. Our senses only pick up the physical actions these "selves" perform, and those actions aren't the full story. Sure, they're "real," but it's just a relative reality—they're just movements that can't exist on their own. The Absolute reality is the infinite swarm of "selves" driving those actions.

The truth about the Absolute reality is the only absolute truth there is. Everything else regarding our "selves" or how reality exists is just noise.

All this stuff about believing in gods, organized religions, temples, and praying for eternal life or salvation from death and suffering? It's a total joke. It’s just a reflection of how clueless we are about what reality actually is.

Faith is just faith. Period. We use it to trick ourselves into feeling comforted, but it doesn't work. Real comfort comes from actually knowing how reality and ourselves exist within it. That knowledge is the only guarantee you need. It proves we don't need to rely on any gods or faiths, because we ourselves are incredible, indestructible gods. Only our physical and mental actions are created and destructible, and we are the ones who create them. Whether we act, and how we act, is entirely up to our own will. It's also up to our own knowledge whether those actions do us good or harm. So, stop praying to anyone or putting your trust in someone else. Trust yourself, your own intellect, your experience, and your knowledge. Forget the faith.

If you’re saying that consciousness needs reality just to have something to actually be conscious of—or, if we're using your terminology, for the self to be aware of anything at all...
So basically, consciousness—the "self"—is totally dependent on reality. I mean, without reality existing, there wouldn't even be a self to begin with, since nothing could ever be conscious of anything else... It’s just a hierarchical setup: reality comes first, then consciousness follows.
Based on that conclusion—reality isn't dependent on consciousness at all. Not now, wasn't then, and never will be...
You're just going in circles and creating contradictions—if you say consciousness depends on reality, then reality depends on consciousness... I don't buy that for a second.
Consciousness just observes reality—it can't actually change things or mess with what's happening in the moment... I mean, I'm talking about right this second, not some long-term life planning stuff...
People can totally mess up—like thinking they can actually bend reality to their will. I'm not talking about just making a plan here, but that whole idea of trying to shift reality through pure thought in the moment... that kind of thing. Sure, you might misuse your consciousness like that, but it’s just a glitch in your own head. It doesn't actually change the world around you...

Sandra Wilson68 said:Krešo2 Quote

Alright, I've been paying attention too.

I think there’s only one reality, and the reason you can't wrap your head around explaining it is because you've made this huge assumption that "the self" is some massive deal—basically deciding it's the beginning and the end of everything. Honestly, maybe without even realizing it, you're leaning on Descartes' whole "I think, therefore I am" thing, which is just plain wrong. The "self" you're obsessing over? That's just consciousness.

Thanks for "paying attention" and giving me something to do. Honestly, replying to your post was a great way to kill some time and deal with the boredom of being retired.

Alright, here’s how it goes:
You're right—there’s only one reality, and I’m out here doing my best to make sense of it. But honestly, the real question is: am I actually getting through to anyone? Do you think I'm tripping by putting the "self" at the very center of reality? Because I'm dead certain I'm not. The way I'm talking about the "self" is worlds apart from how Descartes saw it. Let me break it down for you:

Descartes just stumbled upon one way to prove the "self" exists—basically saying that because we can perform mental acts, specifically thinking, then we exist. Personally, I’m not buying into such a narrow view. I’ve used plenty of other mental processes to prove my own existence—stuff like perceiving, feeling, remembering, and understanding. Even physical stuff, like exerting effort or moving around, counts. Every single one of these mental and physical actions serves as proof of our own existence, or what I call the "self."

Look, I’ve actually moved past Descartes at this point. My takeaway is that proving a "self" exists is really just proving one specific slice of reality. The other half? That’s all physical and mental actions. But here’s the catch: those exact same actions are what we use to try and prove the "self" exists in the first place. It creates this massive loop. How can the "self" even prove that these physical and mental actions exist at all?

Physical and mental actions get proven the exact same way we prove "the self"—just in reverse. Think about it: we use our physical and mental actions to prove that the "self" exists, but now those same actions are proven by the "self" itself. After all, the "self" is the one actually doing the work and knowing it's doing it.

Look, here’s how I see it: reality is split right down the middle. You’ve got the "self" on one side, and then you've got all the physical and mental stuff we actually do on the other. The "self" is the driver—the cause. Everything else? That's just the effect. The "self" exists absolutely in relation to its actions, while those physical and mental moves only exist relatively, basically only in the moment they're actually happening.

Look, you’re obviously going to argue that reality isn't just some isolated bubble made up of our "self" and our physical or mental actions. That's a flaw in the logic. Reality includes everything sitting outside that "self"—everything our "self" observes and becomes aware of through those same physical and mental processes, just like we become aware of ourselves.

Even after you wrap your head around all this, you still have to ask: what actually makes up reality? Is it just three pieces stuck together? First, our "self." Second, everything we physically do and think. And third, that whole massive world outside our own heads that we’re just perceiving?

Let's start by tackling the big one: how does our "self" even exist in the first place?

The answer just forces itself on you.

Our "self" makes it pretty damn easy to prove its own existence just by the way we act, both physically and mentally.

So, how do our physical and mental actions even exist in the first place?

And the answer goes without saying here.

Our physical and mental actions only happen because of our "self"—that's the thing that actually makes them possible. And let's be real: the "self" wouldn't even exist if it couldn't perform those actions, just like those actions wouldn't exist without a "self" to carry them out. Our "self" and its capacity for action are totally inseparable, indestructible, and can't be manufactured. You can't use your own mind or body to build someone else's "self," and your "self" can't step in and pull off someone else's moves. It’s pretty simple: the "self" exists solely on its own terms, and nobody else's.

So how does that whole slice of reality outside our own "self" even exist? You know, the stuff our "self" decides is real just by going through its physical and mental motions.

The answer is pretty damn obvious if you think about it.

Reality outside our "self" exists just as much as we do. Every little thing and every massive object that our "self" perceives—confirming its existence through its own physical and mental actions—exists on its own terms.

Here’s the catch: no matter how big or small an object is, it can’t actually perceive anyone else's "self" besides its own through its actions. It can only witness the physical movements of others, nothing deeper. Other "selves" are totally unreachable. This entire material universe we think we see is really just a collection of physical and mental actions from countless tiny and massive "selves" hiding right at the core of those actions.

And honestly, that’s the root of the problem. Because we can’t actually see anyone else's "self"—only their outward actions—we have no clue how reality truly functions, which forces us to just believe whatever bullshit comes our way.

Basically, the biggest issue isn't understanding how reality works; it's that we don't even ask how *we* exist. Instead, we lean on our senses and ask how reality exists. But our senses can't see the true reality, because reality is composed of infinite "selves" existing outside and apart from our own. Our senses only pick up the physical actions these "selves" perform, and those actions aren't the full story. Sure, they're "real," but it's just a relative reality—they're just movements that can't exist on their own. The Absolute reality is the infinite swarm of "selves" driving those actions.

The truth about the Absolute reality is the only absolute truth there is. Everything else regarding our "selves" or how reality exists is just noise.

All this stuff about believing in gods, organized religions, temples, and praying for eternal life or salvation from death and suffering? It's a total joke. It’s just a reflection of how clueless we are about what reality actually is.

Faith is just faith. Period. We use it to trick ourselves into feeling comforted, but it doesn't work. Real comfort comes from actually knowing how reality and ourselves exist within it. That knowledge is the only guarantee you need. It proves we don't need to rely on any gods or faiths, because we ourselves are incredible, indestructible gods. Only our physical and mental actions are created and destructible, and we are the ones who create them. Whether we act, and how we act, is entirely up to our own will. It's also up to our own knowledge whether those actions do us good or harm. So, stop praying to anyone or putting your trust in someone else. Trust yourself, your own intellect, your experience, and your knowledge. Forget the faith.

This part's tripping me up a bit—could you break it down?
Do you reckon only humans and higher animals actually have consciousness (selfhood)? I’m assuming you agree that a rock or a glass of water doesn't possess selfhood... if not, please walk me through your reasoning.
One more thing—if everything (since you're trying to explain all of reality through mental/physical actions) consists of these actions, then what specific mental or physical actions is a rock actually performing?

I think you've got a pretty solid handle on consciousness, but I don't think I'm quite on the same page with the rest—specifically how consciousness relates to reality and vice versa. It feels like you're trying to boil everything down to the smallest possible noun, and honestly, I think you're losing a lot of the nuance along the way...

Sandra Wilson68 said:Look, I drop in on these discussions uninvited every once in a while, but let’s be real—hardly anyone ever pays attention to what I have to say.

I’m jumping in this time to tell you all that you’re using the word “reality” completely wrong. Reality splits into two parts: absolute and relative. Absolute reality is what actually exists, period. Relative reality is nothing more than the physical or mental action of that absolute existence.

Understanding this split between absolute and relative is vital if you actually want to grasp the truth about anything. There’s no other way to get there—you have to divide reality into these two pieces and then look at them together to make sense of things. But you guys aren't doing that. You’re just chasing the "relative" side of things. You're obsessed with the physical universe, your bodies, and your minds, which are just the relative manifestations—the mere actions—of the absolute. So when you inevitably hit a wall where you can't make sense of this relative world—why it exists or how it works—you freak out. You panic about your own survival because you mistakenly think *you* are just this fleeting, relative thing. In your desperation, you start inventing religions and gods living in some far-off heaven just to feel better. If you ask me, you’re just making fools of yourselves.

Here’s the deal: Absolute reality is *you*. It’s your invisible, unknowable SELF. Your physical and mental actions are just what your SELF does to create your body and mind. Beyond that SELF, there is no other god for you. Based on that SELF, you are indestructible. Everything that exists relatively—which is the entire material universe down to the smallest atom—has its own indestructible SELF sitting right at the center of its activity. When that SELF is exerting force, moving, or acting, it appears as material stuff that we can perceive. Once that movement stops, the SELF is still there, but it doesn't show up physically anymore.

That is the WHOLE TRUTH about REALITY. Period. All the human beliefs, the world religions, the temples, the priests, the wars fought in the name of God, the fear of death, divine punishment, heaven, hell—it’s all just stupid and senseless.

Finally paying attention to this too... 🙂

I think reality is just one thing—and you can't quite wrap your head around explaining it because you've decided that the "self" is this huge deal, like it's the beginning and the end of everything. Honestly, maybe without even realizing it... you're leaning too hard on Descartes' axiom—you know, "I think, therefore I am"—but that's just flawed. The "self" you're talking about is really just consciousness...

For consciousness to actually notice anything, it needs an external trigger first—anything at all... reality, a rock, some light, even just a sudden headache...
Trying to claim reality is just some byproduct of consciousness? Yeah, no way that works—reality's gonna exist whether we're looking at it or not...
For consciousness to actually recognize itself, there’s gotta be something—some kind of reality—there first... So, basically—without something to actually perceive, there’s no such thing as consciousness... just goes without saying.

Your explanation is kind of a contradiction—you’re saying consciousness exists outside of reality, then trying to invent some alternative reality just to make your theory work... that's not really a great way to explain anything...

Reality is just... everything that exists.
There’s definitely a chance I can't explain something—but that's just because I don't get it, not because there's some other reality out there. If we just use "it's another reality" as an excuse whenever we're stumped, we'll end up with thousands of different realities and still be no closer to actually figuring anything out...

Gerald Perez5 said:fadedbison17,

you're making a massive mistake regarding what "reality" actually entails.

see, reality isn't just this sky above us, that rock over there, the house, or that tree... a person's reality also encompasses a web of intersubjective relationships—what we call symbolic reality.

And you—whether you like it or not—are woven into that fabric. Your specific version of reality depends entirely on the belief systems and social convictions of the community around you. For instance, your reality would be diametrically opposed if you were living among a group of religious fundamentalists compared to living in San Francisco or wherever you are now; in those two different "realities," the consequences of writing a post like yours (if it happens to be radical or controversial) would be worlds apart. Here, I’m just debunking a misguided opinion of yours (hehe), but over there, they might actually take your head off. And the beautiful thing is, in both places, that physical reality you’re focusing on remains the same: there's still the sky, the rocks, the houses, and the trees.

If that makes things even slightly clearer—and if you can follow a train of thought that is quite obviously different from your own—then you start to see how much people actually reshape reality. Of course, that doesn't mean they can manifest a house out of thin air just by thinking about it—though, honestly, it's not entirely naive to ponder such things once you realize that the world and yourself always exist in a state of relation, and that everything you perceive as objective exists only relatively, in relation to your own consciousness and so on; besides, 😉 Matrix + tells you something very similar. We've all heard about various "phenomena"—altered states of consciousness, levitation, telekinesis, astral projection—is it all a hoax? I have no idea, most likely just tricks and illusions, but if someone truly, realistically moves objects with their mind, then we're dealing with a different kind of reality than the one we're used to.

But look, I don't mean to go that extreme; simply being immersed in symbolic reality (as we all are) means your life is already dependent on the thoughts of others.

ps — Fountainhead is an excellent film, and it serves as a perfect example of how a man (Cooper) alters reality through sheer force of will.
[Still, whether it's the absolute best film ever made is up for debate, and that was the whole point: you were claiming that it's absolutely possible to know the world with certainty.]

It seems pretty obvious to me that I, like everyone else, live within a context (the society I'm part of, etc...).
If my perception of reality meant thinking I was the only person on Earth and that no one else could possibly impact my life—that wouldn't actually line up with reality.

I'm the one observing, thinking, and acting.
And every other living, breathing person is doing the same within a context that's different from mine. I'm not arguing against that; I'm accepting it. People are a part of reality. 🙂

Reality is everything that exists (rocks, water, astral travel, telekinesis, etc.) and the only way to explain any of it is as a part of reality itself, not as some other reality. I think by labeling phenomena as belonging to some different reality, we're just making them harder to explain.

p.s. I'm not saying I can actually explain those phenomena! 😉

rustymaker5 said:Well, yeah, obviously. That second scenario is just pure fantasy, and without any actual physical effort, it stays right there in your head, true enough...

Though, I did come across some theory once suggesting that the brain doesn't always distinguish between performing an action and just vividly visualizing it. 🤷 Obviously, that wouldn't apply to actually being active on a forum, clearly, but it’s a fascinating thought... It might have something to do with belief systems, or those chemical reactions triggered when we convince ourselves we can or can't do something. It all sort of trickles down into how we eventually choose to act, or whether we act at all...🤷

Interesting point.
I feel like people really need to work on separating daydreaming from actual movement—because once you put in that effort to tell them apart, you start seeing what you're truly capable of... which makes everything way more efficient since you're actually dealing with reality instead of just vibes.

rustymaker5 said:But then again, what is at the core of anything that actually changes our world, if not a single thought?

Let me give you an example to clear things up:
It's one thing if I think about making a post, then actually hop onto Reddit and type it out.
It's a whole different story if I just close my eyes and pretend the post already exists...

Gerald Perez5 said:Alright,
I suspect you might be mistaken—though, granted, I can't say that with absolute certainty (of course); and while I'll likely never truly know which one of us holds the ultimate truth, I tend to trust my own intuition more, and consequently, I weigh my own perspectives a bit more heavily. That's just how I roll.😉

In the meantime, why don't you try to solve this one: what is the single greatest movie ever made? 😉)

whatever floats your boat👍

Gerald Perez5 said:Alright,
I suspect you might be mistaken—though, granted, I can't say that with absolute certainty (of course); and while I'll likely never truly know which one of us holds the ultimate truth, I tend to trust my own intuition more, and consequently, I weigh my own perspectives a bit more heavily. That's just how I roll.😉

In the meantime, why don't you try to solve this one: what is the single greatest movie ever made? 😉)

Not sure if you're asking which movie I actually think is good—but whatever, here's my pick: Fountainhead (Gary Cooper). 😉

Lawrence Robinson5 said:I hear where you're coming from, man, but I really don't get how you can assume that humans don't change things. If we aren't making an impact, then what are we? Just pawns for God and the Devil? Slaves to fate? A byproduct of genetics or pure mechanics?

In your view, what does "will" even mean?

Think about it—when a historical leader decided to launch a crusade against a region because they viewed it as too free-thinking, that didn't just vanish. That act set American culture back by centuries. Does that mean nothing? Does a worldview carry zero weight? It won't change the fact that water is wet, sure, but if human agency doesn't matter, why even bother talking? Why are you drawn to philosophy in the first place? Is it just to prove that humans are irrelevant? That's a hard pill to swallow.

Every living thing knows it matters. And when someone tries to convince you otherwise, there's this internal friction—this clash between two realities, the one being forced upon you and the one you know to be true—that is exactly how people are manipulated and ruled over (by others). If that "other" is you, you can't just shrug it off. If someone tells you your life and your desires are worthless and demands you abandon them just because they say so, are you going to just say "okay"? Or are you going to thank them for the input and walk away?

You're saying reality isn't shaped by thought?

Human history is essentially a timeline of shifting perspectives. People have died for ideas, and entire civilizations have crumbled because of them.

If you're telling me that none of that matters in the grand scheme, I just can't go there with you. We influence nature through our thoughts (usually by failing to think clearly, which is still a form of mental state, strictly speaking). Obsessing over things we can't control—like the chemical properties of elements—is a total waste of time, unless it's to better understand how the world works so we can act more effectively. We should focus on what we *can* change, because that's how we fulfill our purpose. We aren't here to be mere spectators—who's even going to read our journals? People just as "irrelevant" as us? We are here to act. And action, much like any force, can be creative or destructive. It's creative when we think the right way, and destructive when we refuse to.

We have to be practical. Because a theory you can't actually use isn't really a theory at all.

And honestly... claiming that our actions don't change anything is just a convenient way to dodge responsibility. It's a way to avoid growing up. I think that's where the fear comes from: the realization that we have to own our actions and realize we actually matter in the big picture. The truth is, we live in a world where what we think makes all the difference.

I jumped into this thread while I was still riding the high from that other discussion, so I totally misread the vibe—my bad.
I'm gonna sit this one out so we don't go off the rails...
Sorry again 🙂

Lawrence Robinson5 said:Measurement is really just something humans needed so we could turn our thoughts into actual work. Think about it—making clothes, building shelters, trading goods—all of that required some kind of standard. We built the metric system with a specific purpose in mind. It’s been made as objective as possible by basing definitions on natural constants (like using the speed of light for the meter) or by simply agreeing on certain constants (like the kilogram). This push toward objectivity was done specifically to dodge extreme subjectivity—you know, like avoiding a massive blowout over a bill because nobody can agree on what a "gallon" or a "pound" actually means in that moment.
The reasons behind this are as practical as they are profound. Another reason we pushed for a universal system is the basic human need for a solid starting point when observing the world. Measurement is the tool we use to uncover the structures of things, because you can't have structure without ratio. Nature itself is structured: look at the ratio of hydrogen to oxygen in a water molecule—it's 2:1—and that is, fundamentally, a measure.

So, measurement is essentially a property of the universe that humans just categorized in a way that suits us. We need a universal system so we can grasp the mechanics of how everything is interconnected—how everything is tied together. First, we measure distance, area, weight, and time. From those basics, more complex measurements emerged, like velocity, and as science progressed, we started measuring force, electrical current, frequency, and so on. Not all measurements are purely human inventions. Because the universe is composed of elements in specific proportions, it can exist, it can be understood, and within that understanding, we can define the unit we use to decode that complexity—and by grasping that, we keep building forward.

As for there being only one single reality—I don't think it's quite that simple. You act based on your own belief system regarding reality, and that's what defines *your* reality. Within your own framework, your actions make perfect sense, but to someone else with a completely different set of beliefs, those same actions might seem totally nonsensical—and that is *their* reality. I know you're going to argue that only manifestations are real—the stuff that is expressed, spoken, or done—but people can't help but interpret everything, whether it's their own actions or someone else's, through the lens of their own belief system. That applies to everyone. A single act can be interpreted in a hundred different ways, and that’s what really matters to us: the interpretation, not just the raw act itself. It’s from that interpretation that people build everything they do, and that is precisely what creates reality. Someone who sees their existence as being granted by a higher power might become a priest, while someone who sees it as pure mechanical physics will become a scientist—and they'll both change the world as much as they can in their respective directions. Without interpretation, human reality wouldn't be what it is; since interpretation is such a core part of it, a person's entire reality depends on it.

Just think about what that does to the whole concept of civilization. Take, for example, how Native Americans interpreted the world compared to some guy from the 18th-century American East Coast—the realities they constructed were worlds apart. And yet, both versions were just as real.

Basically:
The point of my posts is that humans exist within the context of reality (their life, their body—which has eyes, ears, etc.) and only as such do they perceive reality. They study reality in relation to themselves, but that doesn't make it subjective. If I had to use some slang, I’d use the word "real." But the word that actually fits better here instead of "real" is—objective.

To answer you:
I don't think reality depends on what I or anyone else thinks.
That would mean water is only wet because a massive crowd of people all happen to share the exact same thought about it—if you can even define what a majority is. Do you actually think reality depends on what everyone thinks?

Living in a world like that... honestly, it sounds terrifying. 😱

I feel like we just project things sometimes—like, we decide ahead of time how we’re gonna react to a situation—but at that moment, we aren't actually changing or creating anything in the real world.

Lawrence Robinson5 said:Everyone believes in something. It’s just unavoidable. Even an atheist operates under the conviction that there isn't a God, and they act based on that specific certainty. Or look at how someone might be convinced a certain food is bad for them—and sure enough, it ends up making them sick. But if you don't believe it's harmful, it doesn't affect you the same way.

It’s one of those deep topics where psychology, sociology, and philosophy all crash into each other. If you look at history, religion basically emerged from this fundamental human need to represent the vastness and wholeness of the universe through a symbol. Along with that, we developed rituals as these little anchors—reminders to show respect and gratitude when we feel that sense of being part of something much larger than ourselves.
But here's the thing: just like any symbol, whether it's an image, a story, or a physical gesture, the true essence eventually gets lost. Over time, what was once profound turns into a relatively hollow ritual. We saw the rise of institutionalization, and once you have institutions, you get power hierarchies. That’s when things shift; instead of letting a person connect with that greater whole on their own terms, they insert a middleman—like a priest—to do it for them.

On the plus side, having a unified belief system can act like a sort of social glue, making a community feel more cohesive and tight-knit.
The downside, though, is pretty heavy. The bedrock of any society should be the individual, but in these systems, the individual starts to lose their importance. They stop being seen as a person and instead get treated like a tool or a servant meant to serve some "higher cause."

Look, I'm not exactly out here preaching religion, but I honestly don't think it's possible for a human being to live without believing in something. Even if you were the last person left on Earth who held a certain belief, you'd still be driven by it.

If a person clearly defines what counts as knowledge (and how they actually verify it), they can accept certain insights as facts.
If they define "faith" separately from "knowledge," they can tell the difference between what they believe and what they know.
In that case, a person could claim to know that God doesn't exist.

God doesn't exist. It's not about faith, I just know. 😉

Lawrence Robinson5 said:Everyone believes in something. It’s just unavoidable. Even an atheist operates under the conviction that there isn't a God, and they act based on that specific certainty. Or look at how someone might be convinced a certain food is bad for them—and sure enough, it ends up making them sick. But if you don't believe it's harmful, it doesn't affect you the same way.

It’s one of those deep topics where psychology, sociology, and philosophy all crash into each other. If you look at history, religion basically emerged from this fundamental human need to represent the vastness and wholeness of the universe through a symbol. Along with that, we developed rituals as these little anchors—reminders to show respect and gratitude when we feel that sense of being part of something much larger than ourselves.
But here's the thing: just like any symbol, whether it's an image, a story, or a physical gesture, the true essence eventually gets lost. Over time, what was once profound turns into a relatively hollow ritual. We saw the rise of institutionalization, and once you have institutions, you get power hierarchies. That’s when things shift; instead of letting a person connect with that greater whole on their own terms, they insert a middleman—like a priest—to do it for them.

On the plus side, having a unified belief system can act like a sort of social glue, making a community feel more cohesive and tight-knit.
The downside, though, is pretty heavy. The bedrock of any society should be the individual, but in these systems, the individual starts to lose their importance. They stop being seen as a person and instead get treated like a tool or a servant meant to serve some "higher cause."

Look, I'm not exactly out here preaching religion, but I honestly don't think it's possible for a human being to live without believing in something. Even if you were the last person left on Earth who held a certain belief, you'd still be driven by it.

spot on observation.
makes me wonder how long ago faith was actually a good thing because it kept everyone together. it's been ages since people needed a strict moral code just to stop themselves from killing each other and stuff like that...

Gerald Perez5 said:@fadedbison17

It seems we aren't quite on the same wavelength—you’re taking me a bit too literally, I think. You’re latching onto my specific examples as if they were the core argument, when really, they’re just incidental.
Because of that, there’s honestly no point in me going through your replies line by line, even if some of them are—well, let's just say they're a bit of an eyesore.

To put it simply,
I’m not talking about using the supernatural to explain away every little thing that happens—at least, that isn't how I approach it. (Now, many religious people might certainly do that, and hey, there's nothing inherently wrong with it; the world is just built that way, populated by ordinary folks who are, frankly, pretty average in every sense of the word, and most people aren't exactly speculative philosophers.)

Regardless, no matter how much I learn or understand, I am always acutely aware of one thing: I know that I know nothing. Anyone who refuses to accept that is either being foolish or is simply lying to themselves.
But here is the catch—you can't actually live your life based solely on that realization. So, even when you know your convictions aren't absolute certainties, you have to move forward, building some kind of fortress of belief and acting as if you truly know something—constructing a morality, a set of principles, and so on.

So,
I could master everything there is to know about the world—the causes behind this and that—but there is always a persistent caveat attached: the fundamental nature of the universe is incomprehensible. The great mystery of existence remains unsolvable; that Kantov "x" will remain an "x" for all eternity.

And that is precisely why that "x" exists—because there will always be room for God, for faith, and so on. That is what the author of this thread was questioning in the opening post—how is it that we always find these patterns throughout history?

And now, looking at what’s actually bothering you,
it isn't that "x" (or God) providing an explanation for a specific occurrence—like lightning strikes, or a girl, or a movie you wanted to see. You can always find a more grounded, earthly explanation for those things. But when it comes to explaining generally, the "big picture," the ultimate meaning of anything at all—there is no final answer. And that is where God enters the frame.

For instance, whatever you might know about the nebulas of Andromeda, planetary motion, or the composition of the sun—that’s all trivial stuff. It doesn't really matter to you whether the sun is made of helium or aluminum. But does a meal taste good? Will you enjoy a great movie? Will your brother be okay? Those things matter deeply. If those "ordinary" life events go wrong—if life just starts falling apart—that is when you begin to question the meaning of it all, and you won't find an answer in mathematics or the natural sciences. For many, the answer will be faith, or the support of a community (a nation, a church, a local group, etc.). A rare few will navigate it alone—though even they rely on sheer willpower or faith.

And I won't ramble on,
but you claim you haven't seen any "benefit" from faith. My response? I don't expect a "benefit" in that sense—in fact, if that's how you look at it, the title of this thread is misguided. I simply believe (it was my choice), and life treats me kindly (there's your benefit right there). That is the version of God I hold onto, much like what Kuzanski said: He follows me like a shadow.

And as I mentioned, it seems I made the right choice...

I prefer precision and clarity; I think it's absolutely possible to perceive the world, and I don't think there's (or needs to be) such a thing as the big picture. When it comes to philosophy, I lean toward objectivism—whatever I know, I know for sure, and there's no "x" factor involved (the stuff you mentioned regarding Kant)

Anyway, looks like we've gotten to know each other a bit better and drifted off-topic, so let's leave it at that 😉

placidranger said:Sure. The point is that you can achieve the same results—that sense of optimism—without believing in God, though it probably feels easier when you do. Maybe it’s just me.
Quincy:

That’s just your opinion—and frankly, I don't think reality cares much about what you believe, what you want, or how much you wish things were different.

Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. I realize we can't bend objective reality to our will—that’s a lost cause—but each of us owns a subjective version of it. That's something we actually have the power to shift. You know that one well. The map is not the territory—an old adage, yet one people still struggle to grasp. We spend our lives staring at models, data points, and simplified abstractions, convinced they represent the messy, chaotic reality of the actual world. They don't. A blueprint isn't the house; a stock ticker isn't the economy. I learned this the hard way back when I was working in Chicago—spent months obsessing over a projected growth model only to watch the whole thing evaporate because of a single local supply chain hiccup that wasn't even on the radar. People mistake the representation for the truth. It’s a dangerous habit.?
Quincy:

First thing I’d do? Actually listen to what they told me. If you’re saying there's no hope—then I suppose I should just take that as my death sentence.. Because I have such a deep-seated love for life, I’m going to do everything in my power to facilitate healing—or, if that turns out to be an impossible goal, I’ll focus on making sure the rest of my days are lived with as much quality as possible.

The placebo effect—it’s a fascinating, if somewhat unsettling, bit of psychological theater. People will swear by a sugar pill just because they believe there's a remedy behind it. It’s a reminder that the mind isn't just an observer; it's an active participant in our physical reality. I once saw a guy at a clinic in Chicago convince himself he was feeling better after being given nothing but saline—purely based on the authority of the white coat. It makes you wonder how much of our "medicine" is actually just expensive suggestion.

Maybe...

placidranger said:Sure. The point is that you can achieve the same results—that sense of optimism—without believing in God, though it probably feels easier when you do. Maybe it’s just me.
Quincy:

That’s just your opinion—and frankly, I don't think reality cares much about what you believe, what you want, or how much you wish things were different.

Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. I realize we can't bend objective reality to our will—that’s a lost cause—but each of us owns a subjective version of it. That's something we actually have the power to shift. You know that one well. The map is not the territory—an old adage, yet one people still struggle to grasp. We spend our lives staring at models, data points, and simplified abstractions, convinced they represent the messy, chaotic reality of the actual world. They don't. A blueprint isn't the house; a stock ticker isn't the economy. I learned this the hard way back when I was working in Chicago—spent months obsessing over a projected growth model only to watch the whole thing evaporate because of a single local supply chain hiccup that wasn't even on the radar. People mistake the representation for the truth. It’s a dangerous habit.?
Quincy:

First thing I’d do? Actually listen to what they told me. If you’re saying there's no hope—then I suppose I should just take that as my death sentence.. Because I have such a deep-seated love for life, I’m going to do everything in my power to facilitate healing—or, if that turns out to be an impossible goal, I’ll focus on making sure the rest of my days are lived with as much quality as possible.

The placebo effect—it’s a fascinating, if somewhat unsettling, bit of psychological theater. People will swear by a sugar pill just because they believe there's a remedy behind it. It’s a reminder that the mind isn't just an observer; it's an active participant in our physical reality. I once saw a guy at a clinic in Chicago convince himself he was feeling better after being given nothing but saline—purely based on the authority of the white coat. It makes you wonder how much of our "medicine" is actually just expensive suggestion.

I get where you're coming from, but I don't think I can just wish my way into changing my own internal reality. If I did, I guess I'd just say—the map only shows the territory if you actually want it to... 🙂

placidranger said:Sure. The point is that you can achieve the same results—that sense of optimism—without believing in God, though it probably feels easier when you do. Maybe it’s just me.
Quincy:

That’s just your opinion—and frankly, I don't think reality cares much about what you believe, what you want, or how much you wish things were different.

Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. I realize we can't bend objective reality to our will—that’s a lost cause—but each of us owns a subjective version of it. That's something we actually have the power to shift. You know that one well. The map is not the territory—an old adage, yet one people still struggle to grasp. We spend our lives staring at models, data points, and simplified abstractions, convinced they represent the messy, chaotic reality of the actual world. They don't. A blueprint isn't the house; a stock ticker isn't the economy. I learned this the hard way back when I was working in Chicago—spent months obsessing over a projected growth model only to watch the whole thing evaporate because of a single local supply chain hiccup that wasn't even on the radar. People mistake the representation for the truth. It’s a dangerous habit.?
Quincy:

First thing I’d do? Actually listen to what they told me. If you’re saying there's no hope—then I suppose I should just take that as my death sentence.. Because I have such a deep-seated love for life, I’m going to do everything in my power to facilitate healing—or, if that turns out to be an impossible goal, I’ll focus on making sure the rest of my days are lived with as much quality as possible.

The placebo effect—it’s a fascinating, if somewhat unsettling, bit of psychological theater. People will swear by a sugar pill just because they believe there's a remedy behind it. It’s a reminder that the mind isn't just an observer; it's an active participant in our physical reality. I once saw a guy at a clinic in Chicago convince himself he was feeling better after being given nothing but saline—purely based on the authority of the white coat. It makes you wonder how much of our "medicine" is actually just expensive suggestion.

Not much of an expert myself, but I'm definitely down to learn more. What's your take on the placebo effect?

Look, I get that people can talk themselves into things and create these "self-fulfilling prophecies." But honestly? That doesn't mean they actually succeeded just because they believed in it—it just means they finally pointed their focus... you know, dialed in their concentration on one specific thing...

Faith equals concentration and focus? I wouldn't call it that...
People who lock in on a specific goal or target are way more likely to actually pull it off—that’s just common sense. But honestly, there's no point acting like some higher power is making it happen... it really just comes down to the grind—you know, that pure focus...

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

Look, I'd rather stay on track here—let's not spiral into whether faith makes sense in general or not. That debate ended before we even started it. For me, it doesn't (I'm an atheist), and for you, it does (you're a believer). That's enough for me 🙂

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

Yeah, and my point is that if there isn't an explanation for something yet, it's better for the sake of scientific progress to just say "we don't know what this is" and go find out, rather than trying to explain it away with some "supernatural" nonsense

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

I didn't say I know for sure what I can influence—I just said humans make mistakes, and everyone does, myself included 😉

If I'm following you correctly, you're hung up on why one person dies of cancer and another doesn't?
That just shows we don't know enough about cancer yet—it doesn't prove some supernatural force is punishing someone for doing something wrong.

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

Well, then that person is just chasing something that isn't there (just my take, not trying to force it on anyone).
If that person believes the fact that some higher power exists, they'll go looking for ways to prove it... but does that actually mean that power is real?

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

I grew up in a Catholic family, so I'm familiar with faith. From my own experience, I can tell you it hasn't done me any favors—not a personal attack on anyone, just my own stance.

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

The lightning thing is naive, and you actually pointed it out yourself (a few lines up). Some guy found a girlfriend because he was a good believer? I'm not saying I know the answer to your question (don't even know which guy you're talking about), but I'd rather say I don't know why he got the girl—maybe it was one reason, maybe a thousand reasons I'll never know—but I know it wasn't because of some higher power.

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

But why does it have to be this way and not something else? It sounds like the explanation feels too simple for you, so you're just tossing it aside and assuming there's gotta be something else going on, right?
Personally, I don't think there's anything else 🙂

Gerald Perez5 said:Quincy:

I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže: Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above.

I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.

Quincy:

So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line.

That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.

Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.

Quincy:

Now, let me give you my two cents on that: Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead. From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying.

Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.

Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.

This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.

I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.

So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).

That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.

Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.

What will the believer say?
"It was God."

What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.

Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).

Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.

People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.

On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)

What you're saying sounds like it's only "good" if you're lying to yourself about something you actually did—like telling yourself you succeeded when you didn't—and acting like the delusion is the same thing as the truth.
In the long run, I don't think that mindset does anyone any favors.

My whole point is that manufacturing your own reality doesn't actually help people thrive.
If someone gets bad news—like a terminal diagnosis where they might only have 7 days left—I think it's better to face that reality and make those 7 days count as best they can.
If a guy finds out his partner is cheating on him and he's head over heels, it's better to deal with the facts and figure out a path forward than to hide the truth from himself.
And if someone hits a milestone—landing a job at Google, getting a new car, finding a partner—it's better to just feel that pride and happiness internally, rather than trying to credit some higher power... which, let's be real, could just as easily take it all away.

Gerald Perez5 said:However,
I consider myself both a believer and a rational person,
and I don't simply accept "facts without evidence"; in fact, you are merely stating your position rather than actually proving it.

There is quite a lot of problematic reasoning in your argument—starting from your initial premise (which seems biased, as it equates being non-religious with being rational, thereby implying a believer cannot be rational) all the way down to your final conclusion.

Still,
once a person accepts their limitations (the so-called "rational man" described by kresho2), they simultaneously lose any absolute clarity regarding what is within their influence and what isn't—after all, what he thinks he "knows" might just be another illusion, much like how one might be deceived about what they "know" they cannot or do not know.

Or,
you don't actually *know* (with any certainty) that "whatever happens to that person would have happened even without their prayer"—that's a massive "what if" scenario.

...

The advantage lies in the fact that a believer perceives events as happening precisely because of their faith (whether it was recovering from an illness, finding a partner, or even having a tire blow out due to a mistake)—everything gains meaning retroactively. That is a subjective advantage.

As for an objective advantage—believers have a better sense of humor.

Just gonna repeat myself a bit to stay on track—I mentioned at the start this was a comparison; the question was about advantages—meaning, who has the edge over whom. I noted I'm comparing a rational person (someone mentally sound, an atheist) against a believer (and I noted I have nothing against believers 😉) — so check the earlier posts if you want.

So, I said that with faith, you can't really be consistent with your own reasoning because you have to accept facts based on what's presented to you as absolute truth—you don't have the right to question them, otherwise you aren't a believer anymore. Basically, logic and faith are incompatible (this doesn't mean a believer doesn't think, it just means a specific part of their life is closed off to questioning)

Now, to answer you:
When someone accepts their limitations, they learn what they can influence and what they can't. Sure, they'll mess up along the way, but that's part of the lesson—you can't control when you're going to make a mistake.
From my own experience, accepting those limits makes your impact more focused and effective, and another huge thing—in my book—is that it makes a person feel much freer.

Gerald Perez5 said:However,
I consider myself both a believer and a rational person,
and I don't simply accept "facts without evidence"; in fact, you are merely stating your position rather than actually proving it.

There is quite a lot of problematic reasoning in your argument—starting from your initial premise (which seems biased, as it equates being non-religious with being rational, thereby implying a believer cannot be rational) all the way down to your final conclusion.

Still,
once a person accepts their limitations (the so-called "rational man" described by kresho2), they simultaneously lose any absolute clarity regarding what is within their influence and what isn't—after all, what he thinks he "knows" might just be another illusion, much like how one might be deceived about what they "know" they cannot or do not know.

Or,
you don't actually *know* (with any certainty) that "whatever happens to that person would have happened even without their prayer"—that's a massive "what if" scenario.

...

The advantage lies in the fact that a believer perceives events as happening precisely because of their faith (whether it was recovering from an illness, finding a partner, or even having a tire blow out due to a mistake)—everything gains meaning retroactively. That is a subjective advantage.

As for an objective advantage—believers have a better sense of humor.

Are you being serious? I'd be the first one to sign up for faith if that were actually how things worked 😉

This reminds me of the old stories about lightning—back when people thought lightning was a god. Same goes for floods. People living by a river used to think the flood was the river god. They couldn't explain these things, so they labeled them "god." There's no issue with that part. But they attributed the cause of both the flood and the lightning to a deity. That's where the real problem started. The issue was that no progress could be made in understanding these phenomena because they were already "explained" away as God. Luckily, humanity broke through those barriers and figured out the actual causes.
Your example—whether it’s getting sick, a breakup, or just a flat tire—you might not be able to articulate it, but offering explanations like that is basically the same thing as those ancient people who blamed lightning strikes or floods on gods.
In my humble opinion, that isn't some kind of subjective advantage... it's just a total mental block.

Gerald Perez5 said:However,
I consider myself both a believer and a rational person,
and I don't simply accept "facts without evidence"; in fact, you are merely stating your position rather than actually proving it.

There is quite a lot of problematic reasoning in your argument—starting from your initial premise (which seems biased, as it equates being non-religious with being rational, thereby implying a believer cannot be rational) all the way down to your final conclusion.

Still,
once a person accepts their limitations (the so-called "rational man" described by kresho2), they simultaneously lose any absolute clarity regarding what is within their influence and what isn't—after all, what he thinks he "knows" might just be another illusion, much like how one might be deceived about what they "know" they cannot or do not know.

Or,
you don't actually *know* (with any certainty) that "whatever happens to that person would have happened even without their prayer"—that's a massive "what if" scenario.

...

The advantage lies in the fact that a believer perceives events as happening precisely because of their faith (whether it was recovering from an illness, finding a partner, or even having a tire blow out due to a mistake)—everything gains meaning retroactively. That is a subjective advantage.

As for an objective advantage—believers have a better sense of humor.

Let me be super clear here.
Imagine a believer and an atheist are about to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand so they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The atheist jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and right at that moment, a bird flies by and carries them straight to the edge of the pool.

What’s the believer gonna say?
"That was God."

But what actually happened?
In that second scenario, was the reason the believer didn't get wet because of a prayer?
Nah, it was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird show up just because they prayed?
The bird showed up because birds fly.
THE POINT: Can a person (the believer) actually influence reality through their thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it flies.

People can't change reality with their thoughts, and I don't think there's any actual advantage to "convincing" yourself that you can. 🙂

placidranger said:Not quite. Optimism stems from that faith—the faith is the driver. It’s easy to stay positive when you feel like someone has your back—whether that’s Bog, Mother Nature, the laws of physics, or some cosmic harmony. Honestly, the only way I can see someone trying to be rationally optimistic right now is by leaning on the law of large numbers. 😁

I’m talking strictly about the internal mechanics of thought, not the outcome. I hope it's clear why I'm making that distinction—human thought (or belief) doesn't actually have the power to bend reality to its will.

Sure, but not in a cause-and-effect kind of way.
That said, since everyone carries a subjective version of reality built from sensory input—and perception is entirely dependent on individual filters—when a person works to recalibrate those filters, for them reality effectively shifts.

In my view, given our topic:
- optimism = the drive for progress and efficiency (seeking more control over reality)—which requires an honest respect for the facts.
- faith = the desire for something inexplicable to occur. If it does happen, I simply claim credit for it later.

I find optimism to be rational and useful, whereas faith is both irrational and unnecessary.

Optimism tends to hit a wall when it collides with "reality."
When five doctors at the Mayo Clinic tell you there's no hope, where do you find the strength to keep going? You need a reason—something grounded in actual facts.

Let's just not confuse rationalization (trying to explain everything—even the stuff that can't be explained) with being reasonable (just accepting reality for what it is).

I don't see any point in worshiping some god of the wind and praying for help when I know he isn't there. When something happens that a believer would call an answer to prayer, I know there’s actually a different reason behind it—maybe I don't know it, and maybe it doesn't matter—but it's not because of my faith. If you're fully aware that God doesn't exist, what's even the upside to believing? Seems better to me to just accept that I don't know certain things and maybe I'll learn them later, maybe not...

placidranger said:Not quite. Optimism stems from that faith—the faith is the driver. It’s easy to stay positive when you feel like someone has your back—whether that’s Bog, Mother Nature, the laws of physics, or some cosmic harmony. Honestly, the only way I can see someone trying to be rationally optimistic right now is by leaning on the law of large numbers. 😁

I’m talking strictly about the internal mechanics of thought, not the outcome. I hope it's clear why I'm making that distinction—human thought (or belief) doesn't actually have the power to bend reality to its will.

Sure, but not in a cause-and-effect kind of way.
That said, since everyone carries a subjective version of reality built from sensory input—and perception is entirely dependent on individual filters—when a person works to recalibrate those filters, for them reality effectively shifts.

In my view, given our topic:
- optimism = the drive for progress and efficiency (seeking more control over reality)—which requires an honest respect for the facts.
- faith = the desire for something inexplicable to occur. If it does happen, I simply claim credit for it later.

I find optimism to be rational and useful, whereas faith is both irrational and unnecessary.

Optimism tends to hit a wall when it collides with "reality."
When five doctors at the Mayo Clinic tell you there's no hope, where do you find the strength to keep going? You need a reason—something grounded in actual facts.

Okay, that's your take—personally, I don't think reality changes just because I believe or want something to be true...

placidranger said:Not quite. Optimism stems from that faith—the faith is the driver. It’s easy to stay positive when you feel like someone has your back—whether that’s Bog, Mother Nature, the laws of physics, or some cosmic harmony. Honestly, the only way I can see someone trying to be rationally optimistic right now is by leaning on the law of large numbers. 😁

I’m talking strictly about the internal mechanics of thought, not the outcome. I hope it's clear why I'm making that distinction—human thought (or belief) doesn't actually have the power to bend reality to its will.

Sure, but not in a cause-and-effect kind of way.
That said, since everyone carries a subjective version of reality built from sensory input—and perception is entirely dependent on individual filters—when a person works to recalibrate those filters, for them reality effectively shifts.

In my view, given our topic:
- optimism = the drive for progress and efficiency (seeking more control over reality)—which requires an honest respect for the facts.
- faith = the desire for something inexplicable to occur. If it does happen, I simply claim credit for it later.

I find optimism to be rational and useful, whereas faith is both irrational and unnecessary.

Optimism tends to hit a wall when it collides with "reality."
When five doctors at the Mayo Clinic tell you there's no hope, where do you find the strength to keep going? You need a reason—something grounded in actual facts.

First, I'd accept what they told me (that I'm seriously ill and dying soon—which is how I took your comment about there being no hope).
Since I have this massive love for life, I'll do everything possible to help myself recover, or if recovery is impossible, I'll just live out whatever time I have left at the highest quality possible.

I don't need to delude myself into thinking "something" is coming to save me when I know it won't, and I'm fine with that. I don't see it as being pessimistic, just irrelevant—waiting on some higher power to step in...

Joseph Sanchez90 said:In the scenario you described, maybe prayer helps bring the actual issue to light? Sometimes the hardest part of fixing anything is just not knowing where to start or even what the core problem is; you just feel stuck. In those moments, saying "Bog, please help me with X" can actually help identify what that "X" really is.🤷

Hey! 👍

placidranger said:A sense of agency—actually feeling like you're at the wheel—is pretty much the bedrock of satisfaction. People who feel helpless are miserable; it’s that simple. There’s a mountain of research out there on the "locus of control" and how tightly it’s tethered to happiness and general life satisfaction. The question is: can you actually replicate that feeling without just lying to yourself?

Let’s circle back to your example—but let's swap out the rats for people, and instead of a pool, they're swimming in the ocean. A pool would be way too small for that kind of scale anyway.

Most people—the vast majority, anyway—understand that the ocean isn't infinite. They know there’s land somewhere out there. If you were stuck out in the middle of the Atlantic for any significant stretch of time, your mind would eventually settle on one of two tracks. It’s either "hang in there, salvation is just around the bend" or "I’m thirsty, I’m alone, and I’m going to die." Nothing else really matters.

Whatever he’s spinning in his head—it won't conjure up some miracle escape—be it an island, a boat, or a plane. Thinking your way out of a corner doesn't work like that. It just doesn't.
The fallout from his logic leaves you with two grim possibilities—did he push further and swim harder for more days simply because he kept a positive mindset? Or did he just give up after day one, content to drift aimlessly and wait for the seagulls to pick him clean? 🙂

If there’s truly no land in sight—no passing cargo ships or Coast Guard cutters—then nobody wins. Everyone goes down together. It won't matter if you were a saint or a sinner; the ocean doesn't care about your theology. But if some help shows up on day four or five? The ones who didn't give up are the ones who make it. That survival isn't just luck—it's the direct result of that stubborn faith, that gut feeling that God is going to pull you through.
We don't need to resort to extremes—it’s just not worth the burnout. It might take longer, sure—building a business from the ground up or chasing some other long-term goal isn't exactly a sprint—but there's more value in that slow burn than in crashing and burning early.

Once I finally separated thought from reality—and acknowledged that we really have very little control over our own lives—I reached a conclusion. 😉
A rational man accepts his limitations. He understands that there are certain constants—death, disease, the inevitable decline of the body—that simply aren't up for negotiation. Instead of fighting the impossible, he focuses his energy where it actually matters. He uses logic and hard-earned knowledge to improve his quality of life and extend it where he can, focusing strictly on the variables he can actually control. It’s about knowing when to push and when to just accept the hand you've been dealt.

The issue is that we often hit a wall where our knowledge runs dry—so we just accept certain limitations as absolute truths. We get used to the idea that things like death or terminal illness are inevitable, and we stop fighting. We settle for the status quo. But maybe if we kept pushing—even if those actions seemed irrational to the experts—we could actually overcome the disease. Even in modern medicine, you still hear those strange stories about "spontaneous remissions," where a patient’s body somehow defeats an illness on its own through pure biology. To this day, nobody can truly explain how it happens.

A believer—someone who accepts facts without needing proof—lacks a clear sense of where their influence ends and reality begins. They carry this misplaced sense that they have more control over the world than they actually do. Because of that delusion, the moment things spiral out of their hands, they try to force a solution through sheer will—whether that’s through blind faith or prayer. Occasionally, their prayers might actually align with what happens next, but let's be honest: it isn't because of the praying. It's just coincidence.

So, what’s your take on that whole "Law of Attraction" thing?
It feels to me like sometimes precisely because we’ve been praying to hit a certain milestone—say, looking for a bit of help—we start noticing things around us that actually pave the way toward that goal.
Prayer—when you factor in visualization and repetition—basically recalibrates your perceptual filters. You start spotting opportunities that were invisible to you before, giving you the opening to actually grab them. In that sense, hitting the target becomes a subtle byproduct of the prayer itself.

I think we're talking about similar stuff, but I feel like you're missing something here.
In this context, are you saying optimism = faith?

I'm strictly talking about what happens inside a person's head, not the actual outcome—hope it's clear I'm only talking about the mindset, since a person can't change reality just by thinking or believing.

To me, in this conversation:
- optimism = the drive for progress and efficiency (more control over reality)—and you gotta respect the facts of reality first for that to work.
- faith = wanting something to happen that I can't explain. And if it does happen, I claim later that it was because of my desire.

I see optimism as rational and good, while faith feels irrational and unnecessary...