jducoeur: (Default)
[Preface: I'm not going to claim that all or even much of this is in any way provable or scientific. (Or organized, or thorough.) This is simply a statement of deep beliefs -- ranging from the ones that I am intellectually certain of, to those which I am simply very comfortable with. The profound and mundane are nestled together here: belief is not only in the important. Questions about any of this are welcome: I'm going for simplicity rather than clarity here.]

I believe...

... all is change, and that is good. Change is life; stasis is death. Change is neither to be feared nor demanded -- change simply is.

... that the concept of the "soul" is an unfortunate meme that, 3000 years on, still tends to lead to a lot of bad decisions.

... that the concept of "I" is an illusion. The person I am today is not the person I was yesterday, much less the one I was 30 years ago.

... that each human is a mostly symbiotic ecosystem, held together by that illusion.

... the time is also an illusion, ultimately speaking. From the cosmic point of view, all that ever has been or ever shall be exists equally. ("Eternalist" seems to be one of the philosophical terms that hangs well on me.)

... that there is no heaven, no hell, no samsara: we only get the one life, and that's okay. "I" am a process that only exists in this moment, giving rise to but not existing in the next moment, and spawning a near-infinite number of other aspects of that next. So there should be little dread that that process is finite; rather, there is joy that its consequences are not.

... that we are the universe's way of making sense of itself, and are all made equally of the same starstuff. ("Minbari" is another of my favorite schools of thought.)

... the human brain is a magnificent, ornate, powerful pattern-matching engine. It has nothing to do with reason and logic, though. The surprise is not that humans are often irrational -- it is that we are ever logical at all.

... we are each the product of a million patterns imprinted upon us, most of which we aren't even conscious of.

... the truest wisdom comes from recognizing one's existing patterns, remaining deliberately open to new ones, and being conscious about which ones you give room and board to.

... all forms of media are equally capable of producing profundity and pablum, wisest truths and foulest lies.

... the deepest and most dangerous evil is spreading evil memes. A bad pattern can do more harm than a million men.

... that attachment is, on one level or another, the source of all dukkha. But it is also natural and human.

... that the best life is spent amongst, with and for one's fellow humans. The monastic life is a fair and reasonable choice for a person, but I do not find any great nobility in it. If there is no samsara, then the search for nirvana often misses the point.

... that meditation, nonetheless, in all its thousand forms, can be helpful in this world and this life.

... a good hug is the most important form of human connection. I wish I was less shy about offering them.

... programming is partly craft and partly engineering. It is only a little bit science. But above all, it is art.

... perfect coding combines the rigorous discipline of sculpting with the meditative calm of the tea ceremony. (Or vice versa, if you prefer.)

... quite deeply in many of the teachings of the Buddha. I am, in many important ways, very Buddhist.

... that I am totally not a Buddhist. Every formal school of Buddhism I have encountered dilutes the important and true stuff with far too much off-topic wankery, and sometimes miss the point entirely.

... the Buddha was a great philosopher, not a deity. Ditto most of the other "saviours".

... that there is no anthropomorphic deity, nor a cosmic consciousness in any simple sense that we could understand -- and that's okay.

... you shouldn't need an authority figure to tell you the difference between right and wrong.

... you should need neither the carrot of heaven nor the stick of hell to be a decent person.

... that I no longer hew to some of the core precepts of Masonry. That makes me slightly sad, but All is Change. Someday, I may have to actually follow through on the Mysteries Project to make up for it.

... that everything that can possibly happen *does* happen, somewhere in the multiverse. But what really matters is the probability of getting from state A where I am now, to state B in the future. That, I can influence.

... that the best life is one that is spent always learning -- every day, every hour, every minute.
jducoeur: (Default)
Today's news coverage of the upcoming Reason Rally (a big Washington hoedown for atheists) gives rise to the question, "Am I an atheist?". The answer is no -- but increasingly, I feel like it's the wrong question.

When I was a kid, I was a fairly ordinary reflexive atheist, like so many 13-year-old science fiction fans. The world should be governed by SCIENCE! and religion was just silly. It wasn't any more a considered viewpoint than that of the average parochial schoolchild -- it was simply the assumptions of the cultural milieu that I had bought into.

After college, that softened quite a lot, and I wound up with the sort of squishy intuitive Deism that I still have today. I joined the Masons (on the grounds that Deism was good enough for many of the founders of the organization, so it should still be good enough), but certainly never bought into any organized religion. For 10-20 years, when I made myself think about it, I generally identified my religion as "Minbari", which was a bit flip but mostly accurate: a vague sense that we are how the Universe learns about itself, and that "god" is really made up of the collective sentience of the Universe. That sense is still there, but is just a piece of the puzzle.

The thing is, though, that while I may still kinda-sorta believe in a demiurge, I increasingly do *not* really believe in the idea of a soul, and that's arguably the more important question. There are a lot of reasons why not, and I'm not sure I've ever unpacked all of them before.

On the one hand, there was the realization last year that the idea is not universal, and hasn't always been part of the human experience. This was really driven home by the course Religions of the Axial Age, one of my favorite-ever Teaching Company courses, which is about many of the religions of the thousand years BCE. Among other things, it traces the rise of the meme of the soul, and the surprisingly quick evolution through the logical complications, especially Hinduism's take on the notion of reincarnation (which is far from entirely benign, if you really push through the logic) and Buddism's reaction to that idea. The eastern religions wrestle much more honestly than the western with the notion that eternity is a Very Long Time, so an eternal soul is a mixed blessing.

Then there is my growing internalization of the logic of quantum mechanics, and the increasing trend for cosmology to be viewed in Many Worlds terms. I've always been intuitively attracted to the Many Worlds hypothesis, the notion that the world as we see it at any given moment is simply the sum of a lot of probabilities, one among a multitude. I know that not everyone in science buys into that viewpoint; still, with Stephen Hawking implying pretty clearly that it's how things work, I don't feel dumb in accepting it. And personally, I find it pretty wondrous, the idea that every possible outcome exists in that probability-space to some degree -- it's the IDIC principle (baked into my brain at a young and impressionable age) taken to its logical extreme.

But it's very difficult to square Many Worlds with the idea of a soul. If "I" am branching -- slowly on the macro scale, but a billion billion times a second on the micro scale -- into variant versions of "me", with different probabilities of following particular pathways of my life, how are those all "me"? And how can such a rigidly unitary notion as the soul encompass that branching probability tree?

And then there are my explorations of Buddhism itself -- not so much accepting any of the religious schools that grew out of it, as playing syncretically with the underlying philophies and ideas. One of the points that comes up from time to time goes right to this point: as one Buddhist site puts it, "According to Buddhism mind is nothing but a complex compound of fleeting mental states.":
Every moment there is birth, every moment there is death. The arising of one thought-moment means the passing away of another thought-moment and vice versa. In the course of one life-time there is momentary rebirth without a soul.
Putting it more simply, I am not the man I was ten years ago -- far from it. And I have no expectation or desire that I will be the same person in ten years. Life is continuous change, and that is a *good* thing; lack of change is stillness and death.

Within that viewpoint, a person isn't so much a unitary eternal soul as a *process* -- each moment giving rise to the next. The process is continuous, and that continuity produces a sense of identity, but that identity is momentary: a snapshot of the current state of the process. It is constantly changing and shifting, and eventually that identity comes to an end.

But -- and this is the part that I find genuinely inspiring about it -- the process doesn't end, because the identity is only a piece of it. We are more than a little isolated soul, an island lost amidst trackless seas; rather, we are part and parcel of everything around us, and that world is just as much a part of our process as our own identity. If that isn't inspiring, I don't know what is.

Moreover, this viewpoint forces me to consider the moment seriously. "I" am not something that will be summed up at the end; I can't be bad today on the theory that I'll make up for it later so that the scales balance positively at the end of my life. If all I have is now, then I have to drink that now deeply: I need to find my joys in the current moment, and be the best person I can be right here, right now.

So when I put this together, I wind up with a truly beautiful world. I am part of the world, and it is part of me, all just processes interacting. The idea of the soul is a counter-productive separation of the one from the other, and I find that I miss that idea less and less with each passing year, slowly quieting the part of my ego that fears losing it.

God is the summation of the sentience of everything in the world -- all the moments that ever have been, ever will be, and ever *could* be. All of this has to be viewed from outside time -- which, after all, is just one dimension of the giant probability structure. That viewpoint comforts and quiets the fears of opportunity cost, the desire to know and experience everything I possibly can. Somewhere in the probability tree, someone has been there and done that: the chance is not lost simply because this little shard of the universe doesn't happen to be doing it right now.

And in this grand scheme of things, I -- the collection of probability waves typing this essay right now -- am just a speck: a particular, relatively well-defined process among an infinite number of others. But everyone around me is also part of that process, and anything I can affect for the better increases the probability of states of joy in the grand array. I don't think anybody can really ask for more than that...
jducoeur: (Default)
My thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ladysprite for pointing me to the Ode by Arthur O'Shaughnessy. I had long known the first couple of lines (from Willy Wonka, one of my all-time favorite cultural touchstones), and had even considered them a bit of a motto, but had never thought to find the full source before. The original is both deeper and more beautiful than I'd realized, and speaks to me on more levels than I can readily say.
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamer of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties,
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

A breath of our inspiration,
Is the life of each generation.
A wondrous thing of our dreaming,
Unearthly, impossible seeming-
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.

They had no vision amazing
Of the goodly house they are raising.
They had no divine foreshowing
Of the land to which they are going:
But on one man's soul it hath broke,
A light that doth not depart
And his look, or a word he hath spoken,
Wrought flame in another man's heart.

And therefore today is thrilling,
With a past day's late fulfilling.
And the multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And, scorning the dream of tomorrow,
Are bringing to pass, as they may,
In the world, for it's joy or it's sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.

But we, with our dreaming and singing,
Ceaseless and sorrowless we!
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing;
O men! It must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A little apart from ye.

For we are afar with the dawning
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry-
How, spite of your human scorning,
Once more God's future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.

Great hail! we cry to the corners
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song's new numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.
(Source of this copy.)
jducoeur: (Default)
My thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ladysprite for pointing me to the Ode by Arthur O'Shaughnessy. I had long known the first couple of lines (from Willy Wonka, one of my all-time favorite cultural touchstones), and had even considered them a bit of a motto, but had never thought to find the full source before. The original is both deeper and more beautiful than I'd realized, and speaks to me on more levels than I can readily say.
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamer of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties,
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

A breath of our inspiration,
Is the life of each generation.
A wondrous thing of our dreaming,
Unearthly, impossible seeming-
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.

They had no vision amazing
Of the goodly house they are raising.
They had no divine foreshowing
Of the land to which they are going:
But on one man's soul it hath broke,
A light that doth not depart
And his look, or a word he hath spoken,
Wrought flame in another man's heart.

And therefore today is thrilling,
With a past day's late fulfilling.
And the multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And, scorning the dream of tomorrow,
Are bringing to pass, as they may,
In the world, for it's joy or it's sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.

But we, with our dreaming and singing,
Ceaseless and sorrowless we!
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing;
O men! It must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A little apart from ye.

For we are afar with the dawning
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry-
How, spite of your human scorning,
Once more God's future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.

Great hail! we cry to the corners
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song's new numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.
(Source of this copy.)
jducoeur: (Default)
My thanks to [livejournal.com profile] mindways for the pointer to this fine exposition of the heart of Buddhism. While it's by no means the complete be-all and end-all, this nicely summarizes one of the most central tenets. It's very unintuitive to most folks, because it is *so* contradictory to our upbringing, but more and more I've found it to be quite correct...
jducoeur: (Default)
My thanks to [livejournal.com profile] mindways for the pointer to this fine exposition of the heart of Buddhism. While it's by no means the complete be-all and end-all, this nicely summarizes one of the most central tenets. It's very unintuitive to most folks, because it is *so* contradictory to our upbringing, but more and more I've found it to be quite correct...

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