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18 Oct 2021
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14 Colonial-Era Slang Terms to Work Into Modern Conversation

Hope you’re kedge and not gut-foundered, but if you are don’t get too macaroni, a simple snack and some Adam’s Ale should do the trick.

When you think of Colonial America, soldiers marching to fife and drum and Benjamin Franklin flying a kite are probably what come to mind. But the Colonial Period—which stretched from roughly 1607 to 1776, starting when America was just a group of colonies on the east side of the continent and ending with the Revolutionary War and the signing of the Declaration of Independence—was a fascinating but complicated time in which settlers from England forged a proud new identity. These new settlers brought the English language with them when they came, and whenever English finds a new home, it often takes on a new life. America was no exception. Here are 15 slang words that were recorded in and around this period of American history.

Kedge

What It Meant: Doing well

In you lived in a country town in Colonial-era New England and someone asked how you were doing, you might have replied, “I’m pretty kedge.” It’s a bizarre but wonderful term that essentially means in being in good health—but it also kind of sounds like something a teen in an ‘80s movie would say.

Cat’s-Paw, or to Be Made a Cat’s-Paw Out Of

What It Meant: To be a dupe, to be used as a tool.

This colorful expression came from a fable, The Monkey and the Cat, where a monkey persuades a cat to pull chestnuts out of a fire, promising the cat its share. Spoiler alert: The cat doesn’t get any. So to be used for someone else’s gain is to be made a “cat’s paw out of.”

Chuffy

What It Meant: Surly or impolite

If someone is short with you, tell them they don’t have to be so chuffy. It’s a strange, old word with obscure origins, and one that sounds a bit softer than “jerk.”

Scranch

What It Meant: To crack something between your teeth

Though this apparently “vulgar” term sounds like it was named after what it sounds like to crack something with your teeth, it supposedly comes from the Dutch word, schransen.

Gut-Foundered

What It Meant: Very Hungry

This word, which dates to 1647, is believed to be regional Newfoundland slang. Gut-foundered could easily become a new hyperbole for us pampered moderns to employ, like “starving.”

Fishy

What It Meant: Drunk

Possibly no one invented more ways to say “drunk” than colonial Americans. Benjamin Franklin alone compiled 200 ways to say it. Fishy was meant to also imply the way the drinker looked: “Bleary eyes and turned-down mouth corners make a drunk resemble a fish,” writes Richard M. Lederer, Jr. at American Heritage.

Macaroni

What It Meant: Fancy

When Yankee Doodle called that feather hat “macaroni,” he wasn’t being a weirdo. Macaroni was a term used at the time to refer to a particular men’s fashion from England that was intentionally flashy, over-the-top, and androgynous.

Twistical

What It Meant: Unfair or immoral

This word—which according to 1848’s Dictionary of Americanisms was primarily used in New England—feels like it could just as easily have been invented today. Slip it into conversation in the next time you experience something unjust.

Savvy, Savey, or Sabby

What It Meant: To know or understand

While we still use this word to mean something like “literate” (computer-savvy), in Colonial times, it was actually used more like the way Jack Sparrow uses it. So you might say, “I don’t want to come to work anymore, savvy that?” According to Merriam-Webster, it’s derived from sabe, which means “he knows” in Portuguese. This became sabi in Creole, and later, “savvy.”

Adam’s Ale

What It Meant: Water

If you’re feeling thirsty for water, try using this slang term that was popular on both sides of the pond in the Colonial era. To quote a 1792 American poem by Philip Freneau, “In reason’s scale his actions weigh’d / His spirits want no foreign aid / Long life is his, in vigour passes / A spring that never grew stale / Such virtue lies in Adam’s Ale.”

Shaver

What It Meant: A young or adolescent boy

To call a boy a shaver was to imply that they were young enough that they just started shaving. Which is fitting, if a little condescending—like they’re not embarrassed enough already!

Jollification

What It Meant: Celebration or merrymaking

It’s hard to even say jollification without sounding like a reenactor at Colonial Williamsburg. And though jollification sounds like it would be a good thing, it seems like there was also such a thing as too much jollification: The August 10, 1772 edition of The Pennsylvania Packet used the word in a morality tale about a man named Hilario: “What jolification [sic] could be complete without Hilario? Cards succeeded cards every morning to invite him to dinner, to routs, to dances; his only excuse was prior engagement, and he had not resolution to withstand the temptations.” By the end of the tale, according to Children In Colonial America, “a life of cards, women, and wanton spending slowly whittled away his wealth … no woman would marry him, and even his good looks had failed him.”

Simon Pure

What It Meant: The real deal, authentic, untainted

A delightful phrase that rolls off the tongue and could be dropped into many modern sentences. And when someone asks you, “who the heck is Simon?” you tell them that Simon Pure was a Quaker character who has to prove he’s the real Simon Pure in a 1718 play by Susanna Centlivre called A Bold Stroke for a Wife.

Circumbendibus

What It Meant: Roundabout

Of all the ways to describe something unnecessarily roundabout— like someone telling a rambling story or taking a weird road when driving somewhere—this word, which dates to 1681, might be the most delightful. It also shows how much we fun we had and still have with language, combining prefixes and suffixes to make new words.

Joe Gillard is the author of The Little Book of Lost Words, and the founder of History Hustle.

Original article here

15 Oct 2021
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How to Cope with An Existential Crisis

Has the world gone grey? Are you wondering what life is for? Kierkegaard’s philosophy could help you rediscover your zing.

by Skye C Cleary

Need to know

Are you exhausted from rushing through life doing the same monotonous things over and over again? Perhaps those things that were once meaningful now seem vacuous, and the passion has burned out. Do you feel that pleasures are short-lived and ultimately disappointing, that your life is a series of fragments punctuated with occasional ecstasies that flare up and then, like a firework, fade into darkness and despair? Perhaps you are lonely or pine for past loves. Or you feel empty and lost in the world, or nauseous and sleep-deprived. Maybe you are still looking for a reason to live, or you have too many confused reasons, or you have forgotten what your reasons are. Congratulations – you’re having an existential crisis. Sometimes, the questions ‘Why am I here?’ and ‘What’s it all for?’ haunt you gently like a soft wingbeat with barely a whisper, but sometimes they can feel as if they are asphyxiating your entire being.

Whatever form your existential crisis takes, the problem, as the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard (1813-55) saw it, was that living without passion amounts to not existing at all. And that’s bad for all of us because, without passion, rampant waves of negativity poison the world. Kierkegaard thought that one of the roots of this problem of a world without passion is that too many people – his contemporaries but, by extension, we too – are alienated from a society that overemphasises objectivity and ‘results’ (profits, productivity, outcomes, efficiency) at the expense of personal, passionate, subjective human experiences.

In his journal, Kierkegaard wrote: ‘What I really need is to be clear about what I am to do, not what I must know … the thing is to find a truth which is truth for me, to find the idea for which I am willing to live and die.’ Finding this truth, this passion, was what Kierkegaard thought could unite an existence, overcome melancholia, and help you to become more fulfilled. Kierkegaard had some ideas about how to harness the anguish of what we have come to think of as an existential crisis. Reading Kierkegaard won’t necessarily solve all problems, but it can help you understand some of the sources of your malaise and to see new possibilities for your life.

Sometimes, Kierkegaard is called the first existential philosopher because of his emphasis on the individual and subjective experience. Existential philosophers stress freedom of choice and responsibility for the consequences of your choices, and certainly one of the quintessential existentialist philosophers, Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-80), found this vein of thinking in Kierkegaard’s writing. For existentialists, it’s up to you to decide the kind of person you want to be and how to live your life meaningfully. But these choices leaven despair because of the pressure that comes when you realise you’re free and responsible and have no one else to blame, no excuses for your behaviour. Anxiety, or despair, Kierkegaard wrote, is the ‘dizziness of freedom’. Despair is a kind of vertigo we get when overwhelmed with possibilities and choices. Kierkegaard described it as a similar feeling to standing on the edge of an abyss. You might be afraid of falling, but anxious when you realise that jumping is a possibility.

We are forced to make choices all the time, whether we like it or not. Consider toothpaste: there are so many types and it’s difficult to choose the one that’s best for your teeth. Whitening or stain-removal? Cavity protection, anti-plaque or enamel repair? What’s the difference? Why isn’t there one that does everything? It’s hard to know what the outcome of choosing one over the other will be. While choosing the wrong toothpaste probably won’t devastate your life, when you face more profound choices – such as what to study at college, whom to marry, whether to end a relationship, which career to pursue, whether to try to save someone who is drowning, if you should turn off a loved one’s life-support system – the closer you come to the edge of the abyss, the dizzier you will feel about your possibilities and responsibilities. Sometimes you live in ignorant bliss about your options but, once you become aware of them, wooziness is inevitable. As Kierkegaard wrote in The Concept of Anxiety(1844):

He whose eye happens to look down into the yawning abyss becomes dizzy. But what is the reason for this? It is just as much in his own eye as in the abyss, for suppose he had not looked down.

Sometimes, the dizziness of your freedom is so overwhelming that you might feel compelled to step back, to shrink from making a choice. Making no choice, or letting someone else choose for you, can feel easier. The greater the stakes, the deeper the abyss, and the further you have to fall if you misstep. But your personal growth depends on your ability to handle big choices yourself and not to shirk them. For Kierkegaard, bravely facing up to our choices and learning to channel our anxiety in constructive ways is vital: ‘Whoever has learned to be anxious in the right way has learned the ultimate.’

During his lifetime, Kierkegaard made authorities nervous because he was an iconoclast who encouraged people to think for themselves. He challenged readers to break themselves free from the brainwashing of churches and community groups that preached what to do and what to believe, particularly the Lutheran Church of Denmark, with which he was at loggerheads for much of his later life. Kierkegaard also might have been deeply suspicious of today’s social media and advertising that tells us where to spend our money and time in the elusive pursuit of happiness. In a criticism that seems to have pre-empted online trolls, he proposed that ‘the crowd’ or the public is ‘untruth’ because it enables people to be anonymous, irresponsible, cowardly, and creates an impersonal atmosphere.

Kierkegaard was a Christian, ‘albeit a maverick Christian’, as the philosopher Gary Cox put it, because Kierkegaard emboldened people to develop a personal relationship with God instead of unreflectively assuming what the clergy sermonised. For Kierkegaard, living the truth is infinitely more important than objectively knowing it. At Kierkegaard’s funeral, the archdeacon who gave the eulogy told the huge crowd not to misunderstand or accept what Kierkegaard had written because he went too far and didn’t know it.

But you don’t need to be religious to glean practical wisdom from Kierkegaard’s work. He inspired many atheist philosophers. Sartre, as I’ve mentioned, deeply admired Kierkegaard. He called him an ‘anti-philosopher’ because Kierkegaard sought ‘a first beginning’ by pushing back against boring and abstract philosophies, such as G W F Hegel’s and Immanuel Kant’s, which were very popular during Kierkegaard’s time.

Kierkegaard wrote in unconventional ways. He was witty and came up with quirky pseudonyms such as ‘Hilarius Bookbinder’. Kierkegaard wrote pseudonymously not because he wanted to hide his authorship – pretty much everyone knew which books he’d authored – but to distance himself from his work; to challenge us to question the ideas he presents; to take responsibility for interpreting the text’s meaning; to inspire us to come to our own conclusions; and to create our own subjective truths. The strategy is called ‘indirect communication’. The effect of Kierkegaard’s work is that, instead of dictating and moralising, he provokes – because you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not – and invites readers to dance with ideas.

Kierkegaard uses indirect communication in one of his most famous works, Either/Or (1843), a fictional collection of letters and essays written by different characters and presenting different points of view: aesthetic, ethical, and religious. These three views, or phases, provide a possible framework for how to endure and overcome an existential crisis. The phases are not rigid steps, but rather offer a scaffolding of possible experiences on an existential journey to reinvigorate our passion for life.

Think it through

Enjoy the aesthetic elements of your life

Kierkegaard suggested that the first mode of living is the aesthetic sphere. Aesthetic living is fun and impulsive, focused on sensual satisfaction, like a child who is discovering the world with awe and wonder. The aesthetic sphere is a beautiful phase of life, passionate and sparkling with possibilities. Consider the thrill of falling in love, the delight of seeing your all-time favourite musician live in concert, the elation of sharing a delicious bottle of wine or meal with a good friend, or the exhilaration of skinny-dipping on a whim. These experiences can be intoxicating, extraordinarily interesting, and make you feel like your life is transformed if you submit to them.

Don Giovanni – the protagonist of Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni (1787), a legendary seducer who is also sometimes known as Don Juan – is, Kierkegaard suggested, the ultimate archetype of the aesthetic mode because he lives for immediate sexual gratification and sensuality. Don Giovanni is a player. He is handsome, seductive and exciting. Women find him irresistible: he has slept with more than 2,000 women whose names he records in his not-so-little black book. Don Giovanni seeks pleasure above all else, and dances through his hedonistic life.

How can you live aesthetically? Make your life as interesting and enjoyable as possible. Fall in love a lot. Rotate crops – meaning that, if you’re bored with your life, don’t be afraid to leave behind what doesn’t serve you and start planting seeds for fresh projects and new relationships that energise you. Be impulsive. Live for and in the moment. Cultivate arbitrariness for the sheer pleasure of it: go to the theatre but watch only the middle of the performance; pick up a book and read a random passage. Enjoy experiences in disruptive ways, different than what others are spoon-feeding you. Practise the art of remembering the joys of your past. Practise the art of forgetting unpleasantness by focusing on the silver linings of your misfortunes. Burn the candle of your life at both ends.

Make existential commitments to live ethically

However, an aesthete’s actions can be self-sabotaging, because, as Kierkegaard pseudonymously writes:

As when one skims a stone over the surface of the water, it skips lightly for a time, but as soon as it stops skipping, instantly sinks down into the depths, that is how Don Giovanni dances over the abyss, jubilant in his brief respite.

Don Giovanni gets his comeuppance in the end when a ghost in the form of a statue of the Commendatore, the father of one of his conquests and a man whom Don Giovanni has killed in a fight, drags him down to hell. You might not be dragged to hell by a ghost, but living purely in the aesthetic mode – though it might offer temporary respite – puts you on the fast track to a further existential crisis.

Why is this? The answer is that the aesthetic lifestyle demands a high price. Aesthetic living can be a source of existential despair when you become overly dependent on its distractions to fill the voids in your life. The aesthetic mode is dangerous when you live in a state of immediacy and instant gratification, constantly overindulging in such pleasures as social media scrolling, shopping, television, busyness, alcohol, drugs, serial romancing or casual sex. At a certain point, these activities cease to offer the enjoyment they promise, and the world turns grey.

Wallowing in such distractions only entrenches your alienation more deeply and pushes you more squarely into dungeons of unhappiness. As soon as you’ve satisfied one pleasure, you’re chasing the dragon of newness for the next high. Sometimes you’re so excited about taking risks on new possibilities, so in love with starting new projects and relationships, that you’re constantly flitting from one to the next, never finishing anything. Constantly on the move, you are like an ocean wave, surging powerfully, cyclically, with raw primal energy.

But waves froth and fizzle away indefinitely. If you’re constantly and busily churning through life, your existence amounts to a sum of moments without any real cohesion. Excitement fades and leaves in its wake disappointment and loneliness. The aesthete in Either/Or is envious of insects that die after copulation because they are able to indulge in the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy and then escape life’s greatest anticlimax – the ‘petite mort’ becomes a real one. An aesthetic life will inevitably leave you morbidly tired.

Kierkegaard’s aesthete is plagued with such soul-crushing tedium and torturous despair that he is numb. Because he isn’t truly engaged in life, he lives as if he were dead. Living void of passion makes him feel both chained by his anxieties and also cast adrift, like a spider plunging and flailing around, unable to grasp hold of anything:

What is to come? What does the future hold? I don’t know, I have no idea. When from a fixed point a spider plunges down as is its nature, it sees always before it an empty space in which it cannot find a footing however much it flounders. That is how it is with me: always an empty space before me, what drives me on is a result that lies behind me. This life is back-to-front and terrible, unendurable.

So if living aesthetically can only be a short-term solution to an existential crisis, how can you go beyond that and live ethically? Stop skimming over life like that stone. Slow down and do what you can to carve out pockets of time for reflection. Cultivate the space to become less robotic. And stop using aesthetic activities as a distraction from facing up to your existential despair.

‘Despair!’ Kierkegaard’s pseudonym writes. Despair is the entry price for transitioning from the aesthetic to the ethical sphere. Learning to love despair is an adventure in moving to a higher mode of self-development. Don’t hide from your existential crisis because choosing despair means choosing yourself. To cosy up to your despair is to choose against being beholden to your animalistic, aesthetic impulses, and towards becoming a definite and solidly grounded individual. Choosing yourself means making meaningful commitments, such as dedicating yourself to a vocation. It means setting goals and sticking to them. Dodging commitment means you’re simply hovering over life, not truly living, and as empty of substance as those waves.

To choose despair also means to choose humanity. In the ethical mode, you recognise that you live in a world with other people, that they matter, and that every choice you make must reflect a responsibility towards them. You act with honesty, open-heartedness, understanding and generosity. You focus more on what you can give to others and less on what you’re getting out of them. To cultivate your humanity, go people-watching for an hour and consider the beauty in each individual. Appreciate every person you meet in their particularity – their tasks, challenges and triumphs. Join a club and build a community of friends. Act more charitably. Help people. Commit to making the world better for others.

Choosing this kind of despair also prepares you for marriage in a way that a life of seeking sensual gratification is unlikely to. Getting married – ideally to your first love, in Kierkegaard’s analysis – reflects an ethical decision because marriage is a serious, definitive and life-changing choice. Marriage calls for a more sophisticated awareness of your existence than a life driven purely by sexual instincts. Sure, you can always get divorced, but Kierkegaard’s ethicist suggests getting married helps people take love more seriously than an aesthete would, by focusing on creating a relationship that’s stable and constant. In the ethical sphere, you actively rejuvenate the love with your partner, instead of skipping to the next relationship for thrills and a confidence boost as soon as your first one gets tough.

Face your existential abyss bravely because, Kierkegaard suggested: ‘Anxiety is the organ through which the subject appropriates sorrow and assimilates it,’ and ‘indeed I would say that it is only when the individual has the tragic that he becomes happy.’ The key to the ethical sphere is to use your despair to galvanise you to overcome your sorry dark states, refresh your enthusiasm for living, and arouse your appetite for something more meaningful in your life. You develop yourself by being patient with existence, seeing the beauty in stability, and recognising that you are your own source of happiness and creativity. You don’t need to seek excitement constantly from new external stimuli as the aesthete does. You don’t need a dance floor to dance, to enjoy life; your dance floor is inside of you, wherever you are. You nurture the ethical attitude by living intentionally (not accidentally, like the aesthete), and living each day as if it were your Judgment Day.

Leap to faith

The ethical mode can help stabilise you, but it might not be enough to resolve your existential crisis. Living ethically might even be another source of existential calamity because fulfilling your social duties can be onerous. Kierkegaard’s ethicist says of the duty of marriage: ‘Its uniformity, its total uneventfulness, its incessant vacuity, which is death and worse than death.’ Marriage doesn’t make love stay. People change and break promises, making any commitment insecure. Given how many other people are unjust and immoral, being ethical might also throw you deeper into despair. And sinking too heavily into reflection can thwart your enjoyment of life. Philosophers tend to be guilty of overthinking, and Kierkegaard’s aesthete quips: ‘What seems so difficult to philosophy and the philosophers is to stop.’

The only way truly to conquer an existential crisis is with a leap. A leap is what Kierkegaard calls an ‘inward deepening’, which recognises that the world is uncertain, but you can make a bold choice about the kind of life you want to lead. A leap is beyond the realm of feelings (aesthetic sphere) and commitments (ethical sphere). A leap is an act of will to transform your life. It’s the decision to design an existence to which you can enthusiastically devote yourself and that will uplift and sustain your being.

Kierkegaard’s leap was guided by the commandment to ‘love thy neighbour’. In Works of Love(1847), written under Kierkegaard’s real name, he proposes that universal love, or agapē, is the secret to happiness because it overcomes the fleetingness and insecurity of aesthetic and ethical relationships. Love is Ariadne’s thread of life because, as long as you love, as long as you commit yourself to being a loving person, you’ll be safe from being hurt and alone. Kierkegaard thought that this sort of unwavering faith reflects a supremely developed human being.

Perhaps you live in the aesthetic or ethical modes of life, and you’re perfectly happy and see no need to leap. Or perhaps you inhabit these realms and find comfort in your melancholy. But the rub with existential despair is that, once you have caught a glimpse of it, intentionally or not, it’s extraordinarily difficult to unsee it. If that’s you, Kierkegaard’s ideas might be a way to help you find your footing. But the only thing that will alleviate an existential crisis is to find the truth that is true for you, the subjective truth, the propulsion to leap that lies in the innermost depths of your heart. If you’re not sure what your subjective truth is, Kierkegaard suggested: ‘Ask yourself and keep on asking until you find the answer.’

Ultimately, though, a passionately lived life isn’t about an either/or choice. You can’t be all frivolous or all serious all the time. A fulfilling life is about enjoyment and ethical commitment and leaping. Your life needs some of the sort of energy, pleasures and possibilities that Don Giovanni’s life exhibits (though not necessarily indulging these in the ways he does), otherwise the world would be very dull. And the world is boring without him. You also need something of the ethical: you need to acknowledge how your choices affect other people and to take responsibility for your actions, otherwise you’ll end up alone and sad. You also need a leap to find that thing that you can devote yourself to that unites the splinters of your life, even if, for you, that isn’t a leap into religious faith. The point is to see these different dimensions of life, the ruts you might be falling into, the potential sources of ennui and malaise that stem from the way you live your life. But, ultimately, it’s up to you to choose how you juggle these spheres and how you spark your own fire to bind the fragments of your life together into a coherent synthesis. That’s the point. It’s for you to shape your life.

Key points – How to cope with an existential crisis

Living in the moment can be fun for a while but can also be a source of existential despair if it becomes a distraction from reflecting on our lives.
Avoiding existential despair doesn’t bring happiness.
Overcoming an existential crisis calls for bravely facing up to our melancholy, looking at its roots, and using that understanding as a platform to build stability.
Slowing down, cutting back on busyness, and cultivating idleness or novel perspectives on the world are vital steps in creating space for inward reflection.
Existential despair can be a force for good when we galvanise it to overcome our sorry dark states, refresh our enthusiasm for living, and arouse our appetite for a more meaningful life.
A fulfilling life calls for playful enjoyment, ethical engagement and a leap to something that can fuse together the fragments of our existences.

Why it matters

One of Kierkegaard’s pseudonyms writes: ‘For a book has the remarkable property that it can be interpreted any way you wish.’ You might very well interpret Kierkegaard differently, and that’s what he wanted. Maybe. Kierkegaard’s pseudonym also suggests that, whether you do something or you don’t do something, you’ll regret it either way. So read Kierkegaard or don’t read him. Perhaps you will regret both, but perhaps you’ll also find a path towards edification.

It’s worth remembering, though, that not even Kierkegaard followed this advice completely. He never married, for example. He broke off an engagement with Regine Olsen, who was devastated. Kierkegaard was melancholy and didn’t know how to love her and God at the same time. He said he felt ‘a divine protest’. Instead of being an adult and trying to explain his feelings to Olsen, Kierkegaard thought it would be better if she hated him. So he told her he was breaking off the engagement in order to sow his wild oats. He said, condescendingly, that he was awful to her for her sake, although it seems he thought this was the easier option for him.

Kierkegaard wrote Either/Or shortly after the breakup, and the book included a fictionalised account of the relationship. He portrayed the incident in the section known as ‘The Seducer’s Diary’ in terms of a psychopathic sexual predator conniving to seduce a beautiful and innocent young woman. Olsen went on to marry someone else, and Kierkegaard obsessed over her for the rest of his life. Only later did he realise, after all his thinking and writing about existential crises, how he might have reconciled his aesthetic, ethical and religious lifestyles with Olsen. Kierkegaard saw himself as a philosophical midwife, like the goddess Diana, who could guide people to give birth to more fulfilled versions of themselves. Let us let Kierkegaard’s wisdom inspire us on our own journeys.

Kierkegaard’s journey was a definitive leap to religion. He went into great depth about different modes of religiousness in works such as Concluding Unscientific Postscript (1846) and Sickness unto Death (1849). Kierkegaard worried that atheists won’t know if they’re right until it’s too late, but other existential philosophers made very different leaps. For example, Simone de Beauvoir (1908-86) leapt into writing literature and political advocacy.

How do we figure out where we might leap to? One tool that Kierkegaard hinted towards, for seeking possible leaps, is poetry. Music vanishes in time, painting is static in time, but poetry, Kierkegaard thought, is a higher artform because it exists both in the moment and beyond the moment. It exists spontaneously when you read and write it, and it exists across time because you can return to it and develop it. The most important role of poetry is that it can remind you to be both the composer and the composition of your life.

Poetry can be a tool to help you to stop and reflect on your being, to sit with unhappiness, to process existential dread. Poetry can act as a conduit of aesthetic beauty, preserving flavours and textures of love and frivolity in language. Poetry can teach you to be patient with your life, and to create an internal history for yourself. Your history is part of who you are but doesn’t determine who you are becoming. Poetry can help you to not forget your misfortunes (or to remember their silver lining) like the aesthete would, and to come to terms with your past. Poetry can also help you to explore possibilities for your leap, by encouraging you to turn inwards to clarify that thing that can unite your existence in a genuinely passionate upsurge of being.

Original article here

09 Oct 2021
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Our Brains Tell Stories So We Can Live

We are all storytellers; we make sense out of the world by telling stories. And science is a great source of stories. Not so, you might argue. Science is an objective collection and interpretation of data. I completely agree. At the level of the study of purely physical phenomena, science is the only reliable method for establishing the facts of the world.

But when we use data of the physical world to explain phenomena that cannot be reduced to physical facts, or when we extend incomplete data to draw general conclusions, we are telling stories. Knowing the atomic weight of carbon and oxygen cannot tell us what life is. There are no naked facts that completely explain why animals sacrifice themselves for the good of their kin, why we fall in love, the meaning and purpose of existence, or why we kill each other.

Science is not at fault. On the contrary, science can save us from false stories. It is an irreplaceable means of understanding our world. But despite the verities of science, many of our most important questions compel us to tell stories that venture beyond the facts. For all of the sophisticated methodologies in science, we have not moved beyond the story as the primary way that we make sense of our lives.

To see where science and story meet, let’s take a look at how story is created in the brain. Let’s begin with an utterly simple example of a story, offered by E. M. Forster in his classic book on writing, Aspects of the Novel:“The king died and then the queen died.” It is nearly impossible to read this juxtaposition of events without wondering why the queen died. Even with a minimum of description, the construction of the sentence makes us guess at a pattern. Why would the author mention both events in the same sentence if he didn’t mean to imply a causal relationship?

Once a relationship has been suggested, we feel obliged to come up with an explanation. This makes us turn to what we know, to our storehouse of facts. It is general knowledge that a spouse can die of grief. Did the queen then die of heartbreak? This possibility draws on the science of human behavior, which competes with other, more traditional narratives. A high school student who has been studying Hamlet, for instance, might read the story as a microsynopsis of the play.

The pleasurable feeling that our explanation is the right one—ranging from a modest sense of familiarity to the powerful and sublime “a-ha!”—is meted out by the same reward system in the brain integral to drug, alcohol, and gambling addictions. The reward system extends from the limbic area of the brain, vital to the expression of emotion, to the prefrontal cortex, critical to executive thought. Though still imperfectly understood, it is generally thought that the reward system plays a central role in the promotion and reinforcement of learning. Key to the system, and found primarily within its brain cells, is dopamine, a neurotransmitter that carries and modulates signals among brain cells. Studies consistently show that feeling rewarded is accompanied by a rise in dopamine levels.

This reward system was first noted in the 1950s by two McGill University researchers, James Olds and Peter Milner. Stimulating electrodes were placed in presumed brain reward areas of rats. When allowed full unrestricted access to a lever that, when depressed, would cause the electrodes to fire, the rats quickly learned to repeatedly depress the lever, often to the exclusion of food and water. Realizing that our brains are capable of producing feelings so intense that we choose to ignore such basic drives as hunger and thirst was a first step toward understanding the enormous power of the brain’s reward circuitry.

Critical to understanding how stories spark the brain’s reward system is the theory known as pattern recognition—the brain’s way of piecing together a number of separate components of an image into a coherent picture. The first time you see a lion, for instance, you have to figure out what you’re seeing. At least 30 separate areas of the brain’s visual cortex pitch in, each processing an aspect of the overall image—from the detection of motion and edges, to the register of color and facial features. Collectively they form an overall image of a lion.

Each subsequent exposure to a lion enhances your neural circuitry; the connections among processing regions become more robust and efficient. (This theory, based on the research of Canadian psychologist Donald O. Hebb, a pioneer in studying how people learn, is often stated as “cells that fire together wire together.”) Soon, less input is necessary to recognize the lion. A fleeting glimpse of a partial picture is sufficient for recognition, which occurs via positive feedback from your reward system. Yes, you are assured by your brain, that is a lion.

An efficient pattern recognition of a lion makes perfect evolutionary sense. If you see a large feline shape moving in some nearby brush, it is unwise to wait until you see the yellows of the lion’s eyes before starting to run up the nearest tree. You need a brain that quickly detects entire shapes from fragments of the total picture and provides you with a powerful sense of the accuracy of this recognition.

One need only think of the recognition of a new pattern that is so profound that it triggers an involuntary “a-ha!” to understand the degree of pleasure that can be associated with learning. It’s no wonder that once a particular pattern-recognition-reward relationship is well grooved into our circuitry, it is hard to shake. In general—outside of addiction, that is—this “stickiness” of a correlation is a good thing. It is through repetition and the sense of familiarity and “rightness” of a correlation that we learn to navigate our way in the world.

Science is in the business of making up stories called hypotheses and testing them, then trying its best to make up better ones. Thought-experiments can be compared to storytelling exercises using well-known characters. What would Sherlock Holmes do if he found a body suspended in a tree with a note strapped to its ankle? What would a light ray being bounced between two mirrors look like to an observer sitting on a train? Once done with their story, scientists go to the lab to test it; writers call editors to see if they will buy it.

People and science are like bread and butter. We are hardwired to need stories; science has storytelling buried deep in its nature. But there is also a problem. We can get our dopamine reward, and walk away with a story in hand, before science has finished testing it. This problem is exacerbated by the fact that the brain, hungry for its pattern-matching dopamine reward, overlooks contradictory or conflicting information whenever possible. A fundamental prerequisite for pattern recognition is the ability to quickly distinguish between similar but not identical inputs. Not being able to pigeonhole an event or idea makes it much more difficult for the brain to label and store it as a discrete memory. Neat and tidy promotes learning; loose ends lead to the “yes, but” of indecision and inability to draw a precise conclusion.

When we make and take incomplete stories from science, there are moral consequences.

Just as proper pattern recognition results in the reward of an increased release of dopamine, faulty pattern recognition is associated with decreased dopamine release. In monkeys, the failure to make a successful prediction (correlation between expected and actual outcome) characteristically diminishes dopamine release exactly at the time that the predicted event is anticipated but fails to occur. Just as accurate correlations are pleasurable, lack of correlation produces the neurotransmitter equivalent of thwarted expectation (or worse).

Once we see that stories are the narrative equivalent of correlation, it is easy to understand why our brains seek out stories (patterns) whenever and wherever possible. You may have read or heard about the famous experiment in which University of Illinois psychology professor Daniel Simons asked subjects to watch a video and count the number of times a ball is dribbled by a basketball team. When focused on counting, the majority of viewers failed to see a woman in a gorilla suit walk across the playing area. In effect, well-oiled patterns of observation encourage our brains to compose a story that we expect to hear.

Because we are compelled to make stories, we are often compelled to take incomplete stories and run with them. With a half-story from science in our minds, we earn a dopamine “reward” every time it helps us understand something in our world—even if that explanation is incomplete or wrong.

Following the Newtown massacre, some experts commented on the killer having Asperger’s syndrome, as though that might at least partially explain his behavior. Though Asperger’s syndrome feels like a specific diagnosis, it is, by definition, nothing more than a constellation of symptoms common to a group of people. In the 1940s, Austrian pediatrician Hans Asperger noted that a number of patients had similar problems with social skills, eccentric or repetitive actions, unusual preoccupation rituals, and communication difficulties, including lack of eye contact and trouble understanding facial expressions and gestures. The 2013 decision by the American Psychiatric Association to remove the diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome from its guidebook for clinicians, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychiatric Disorders (DSM-V), for failing to conform to any specific neuropathology, underscores the all-too-common problem of accepting a clustering of symptoms as synonymous with a specific disease. Syndromes are stories in search of underlying causes.

Similarly, studies of psychopaths have shown a diminished volume of gray matter in specific regions of the prefrontal cortex. But these findings aren’t the sole explanation for violent acts. Because it is impossible to stimulate a specific brain region to produce complex and premeditated acts, we are left to conclude that while certain brain conditions can be correlated with a complex act, they are not necessarily causing it. Likewise, brain scans that reveal abnormalities in mass murderers may help us understand what might have contributed to their behavior. But the abnormalities are no more the sole explanation for violence than childhood neglect or poor nutrition. They are stories, albeit with a detailed neurophysiological component, but stories nonetheless.

When we make and take incomplete stories from science, there are often moral consequences. How much personal responsibility should we assign to an individual with a damaged or malfunctioning brain? What is the appropriate punishment and possibility of rehabilitation for such a person? Only when we openly acknowledge the degree to which science is presenting its observations in the form of story can we address this moral dimension. We must each work out our own guidelines for when we think scientific data has exceeded its bounds and has morphed into the agenda and bias of story. Of course this is always going to be a challenge in the absence of a full array of scientific data.

But we can begin by being aware of the various ways that storytelling can insinuate itself into the presentation and interpretation of data. Good science is a combination of meticulously obtained and analyzed data, a restriction of the conclusions to those interpretations that are explicitly reflected in the data, and an honest and humble recognition of the limits of what this data can say about the world.

Loose ends lead to the “yes, but” of indecision and inability to draw a precise conclusion.

As members of the public, we need to ensure that any science we accept as truth has passed through the peer-review process. We should also understand that even peer-reviewed data is not always accurate. In 2011, Nature reported that published retractions had increased by a factor of 10 over the last 10 years, while the number of papers published rose only 44 percent. Also in Nature, scientists C. Glenn Begley and Lee M. Ellis wrote that their colleagues at the biotechnology firm Amgen could reproduce only six of 53 landmark hematology and oncology studies from the scientific literature. Similarly, scientists from Bayer reported in 2011 that they could not consistently reproduce about two-thirds of oncology studies relevant to their work.

When reading science reports, we should also search for information on the limits of the data. Were assumptions made? What do the “error bars,” or graphic representations of variable data, say? We may not always understand the data limits, but we should be worried when some discussion of them is completely absent.

In the end, scientists have the tools, language, and experience to tell us informed, engaging, and powerful stories. In turn, we should judge their studies in the same light in which we judge other artistic forms. Like a literary critic, we should assess the preciseness of language, the tightness of structure, the clarity and originality of vision, the overall elegance and grace of the study, the restraint with which they present moral issues, how they place their studies in historical, cultural, and personal context, and their willingness to entertain alternative opinions and interpretations.

The methodology of science remains one of the great advances of humankind. Its stories, properly told, are epic poems in progress, and deserve to stand alongside the great stories of history.

About the Author:

Robert A. Burton, M.D., a neurologist and novelist, is the author of On Being Certain: Believing That You Are Right Even When You’re Not, and A Skeptic’s Guide to the Mind: What Neuroscience Can and Cannot Tell Us About Ourselves.

Original article here.

06 Oct 2021
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Japan’s Unusual Way To View The World

Withdrawing my hands reluctantly from the slowly spinning bowl, I watched its uneven sides slowly come to a stop, wishing I could straighten them out just a little more. I was in the ancient pottery town of Hagi in rural Yamaguchi, Japan, and while I trusted the potter who convinced me to let it be, I can’t say I understood his motives.

Smiling, he announced, “it has wabi-sabi” – and whisked the bowl away for firing. I sat, contemplating the lack of symmetry and wondering what on Earth he meant.

As it turns out, failing to understand this phrase is not unusual. A key part of the Japanese Aesthetic – the ancient ideals that still govern the norms on taste and beauty in Japan – wabi-sabi is not only untranslatable, but also considered undefinable in Japanese culture. Often muttered in moments of profound appreciation, and almost always followed by the word muri! (impossible!) when asked to expand, the phrase offers an unusual way to view the world.

Originating in Taoism during China’s Song dynasty (960-1279) before being passed onto Zen Buddhism, wabi-sabi was originally seen as an austere, restrained form of appreciation. Today it encapsulates a more relaxed acceptance of transience, nature and melancholy, favouring the imperfect and incomplete in everything, from architecture to pottery to flower arranging.

Wabi, which roughly means ‘the elegant beauty of humble simplicity’, and sabi, which means ‘the passing of time and subsequent deterioration’, were combined to form a sense unique to Japan and pivotal to Japanese culture. But just as Buddhist monks believed that words were the enemy of understanding, this description can only scratch the surface of the topic.

Prof Tanehisa Otabe, professor at Tokyo University’s Institute of Aesthetics, suggests that the ancient art of wabi-cha, a style of tea ceremony established by tea masters Murata Juko and Sen no Rikyu from the late 15th to 16th Centuries forms a good introduction to wabi-sabi. By choosing common Japanese pottery over the popular (and technically perfect) imported Chinese examples, the men challenged the rules of beauty. Without bright colours and ornate designs to rely on as signifiers of accepted beauty, guests were encouraged to study subtle colours and textures that would previously have been overlooked.

As to why they sought imperfect, rustic pieces, Prof Otabe explained that, “wabi-sabi leaves something unfinished or incomplete for the play of imagination”. This opportunity to actively engage with something considered to be wabi-sabi achieves three things: an awareness of the natural forces involved in the creation of the piece; an acceptance of the power of nature; and an abandonment of dualism – the belief that we are separate from our surroundings.

Combined, these experiences allow the viewer to see themselves as part of the natural world, no longer separated by societal constructs and instead at the mercy of natural timelines. Rather than seeing dents or uneven shapes as mistakes, they are viewed as a creation of nature – much as moss would grow on an uneven wall or a tree would curve in the wind.

“The aesthetics of wabi-sabi opened our eyes to everyday life and gave us a method of handling what is common in an uncommon, aesthetic way,” Prof Otabe said, highlighting the importance of acceptance in Japanese culture, a society forced to contend with devastating natural disasters on a semi-regular basis. Rather than casting nature solely as a dangerous and destructive force, it helps frame it as a source of beauty, to be appreciated on the smallest of levels. It becomes a provider of colours, designs and patterns, a source of inspiration, and a force to work alongside, rather than against.

It is the inevitable mortality embound in nature, however, that is key to a true understanding of wabi-sabi. As author Andrew Juniper notes in his book Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence, “It… uses the uncompromising touch of mortality to focus the mind on the exquisite transient beauty to be found in all things impermanent”. Alone, natural patterns are merely pretty, but in understanding their context as transient items that highlight our own awareness of impermanence and death, they become profound.

This idea brought to mind a story a Japanese colleague told me when we discussed wabi-sabi. Visiting Kyoto as a teenager, she had hurried through the grounds of Ginkakuji, a wooden Zen temple with quiet gardens, eager to see the more famous Kinkakuji, an ornate temple covered in gold leaf and perched above a reflective pond. Bright, stunning and glamorous, it lived up to her expectations, a far more impressive beauty than its traditional sister temple.

A few decades later, however, she returned to find the gold garish and, while it was certainly eye-catching, there was little beyond the immediate gratification of the gold leaf. Ginkakuji, however, offered a new fascination: the aged wood held countless hues and patterns, while the Zen moss and dry sand gardens offered a frame for nature’s many shapes. Unable to appreciate these things as a child, she had grown to see the ravages of time as a deeper source of beauty, far greater than a two-dimensional flash of gold.

Intrigued by the personal element of this appreciation, I contacted artist Kazunori Hamana, whose unique pieces are often considered to have an element of wabi-sabi. As we walked through the grounds of his tumbledown farmhouse in the rural idyll of Izumi in Chiba prefecture, he agreed with the need for age.

“You have different feelings when you’re young – everything new is good, but you start to see history develop like a story. After you’ve grown up, you see so many stories, from your family to nature: everything growing and dying and you understand the concept more than you did as a child.”

This appreciation for the marks of time is a key feature in Hamana’s works, which he chooses to display in derelict Japanese farmhouses. Explaining that the wooden doorframes have been blackened by years of smoke from the irori (an indoor hearth) and pointing out how the mud walls have started crumbling, he says he feels the history of the houses lend a fitting backdrop to his pieces, avoiding the cold duality of impersonal white gallery spaces.

Creating sculptures with natural clay from Shiga, an area with a reputation for high-quality clay and a long history of pottery making, Hamana embraces the important wabi-sabi concept of mutual creation between man and nature.

“I design a little at first, but clay is a natural thing, so it changes. I don’t want to fight with nature so I follow the shape, I accept it,” he said.

Not only does he allow nature to aid in the shaping of his pieces, but in their later appearance too. In an overgrown bamboo forest in the farmhouse grounds, he showed me the pieces he’d chosen to leave outside, buried in the undergrowth for years at a time. There they’ve developed unique patterns from extreme temperatures and surrounding plant life, as well as being occasionally broken. Studying them closely, I found that this simply added to the beauty of each piece, with the cracks offering another opportunity to add to the story.

Often associated with wabi-sabi is the art of kintsugi – a method of repairing broken pottery using gold or lacquer. The process highlights, rather than conceals, the cracks, allowing them to become a part of the piece, too. When his daughter accidentally broke some of his work, Hamana said, laughing, he decided to leave the pieces outside for a few years, allowing them to be coloured and shaped by nature. When it was repaired by a local kintsugi specialist, the different colours created a contrast so subtle, so uneven, that could never have been intentionally created. Embracing the effects of nature and allowing family history to be visible in a piece creates a unique value for something which would, in many cultures, simply be discarded as worthless.

In fact, the term ‘perfect’, which stems from the Latin perfectus, meaning complete, has been placed on an undeserved pedestal in many cultures, especially the West. Prioritising flawlessness and infallibility, the ideal of perfection creates not only unachievable standards, but misguided ones. In Taoism, since no further growth or development can take place, perfection is considered equivalent to death. While we strive to create perfect things and then struggle to preserve them, we deny their very purpose and subsequently lose the joys of change and growth.

Although seemingly abstract, this appreciation of transient beauty can be found at the heart of some of Japan’s most simple pleasures. Hanami, the annual celebration of cherry blossoms, involves parties and picnics, boat rides and festivals, all beneath the often already-falling petals, considered as beautiful in their haphazard patterns on the floor as they are on the branches. The pure acceptance of a fleeting beauty that would garner no more than a few photos in the West is something of an inspiration. While the appreciation may be tinged with melancholy, its only lesson is to enjoy the moments as they come, without expectations.

The dents and scratches we bear are all reminders of experience, and to erase them would be to ignore the complexities of life. By retaining the imperfect, repairing the broken and learning to find beauty in flaws – rather than in spite of them – Japan’s ability to cope with the natural disasters it so often faces is strengthened. When my bowl from Hagi arrived in the post months later, its uneven edges were no longer a defect, but instead a welcome reminder that life is not perfect, and nor should I try to make it so.

Original story here.

26 Sep 2021
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Loneliness: Coping With the Gap Where Friends Used to Be

Friendships can be difficult, and lockdowns have made them even harder to maintain. But we should cherish them.

Almost every day for the past few months, I’ve told my husband I am lonely. Obviously I’m glad that he’s around. What I miss are my friends. In the first lockdown, we stayed in touch with Zoom dates, which were awkward, often drunk and occasionally very joyful. Those days are long gone. I’ve returned to texting, and though I’m often deep in four or five conversations at once, it isn’t the same as being together.

In the past year, there was a difficult bereavement in my family, and work has been harder than normal. None of these things are unique or insurmountable but the isolation has left me feeling almost capsized by anxiety and paranoia.

I’m definitely not alone in this. The other night, my stoical husband stunned me by crying out in what sounded like real devastation: “No one texts me! No one WhatsApps me!” He’s a generation older than me, and rarely discusses his feelings or expresses emotional needs. But the lack of ordinary time with friends has worn away at his defenses too.

We’re lucky. There are people we can and will see. But a lack of friends is a growing problem, in Britain and America alike. A 2021 study, conducted by the American Enterprise Institute, suggests that the proportion of people who can name six close friends has dropped from 55% to 27% since the 1990s, while people who have no close friends at all had risen from 3% to 12%. One in five single men say they do not have any close friends, while only 59% of Americans have what they would describe as a best friend.

Some of this is undoubtedly the effects of the pandemic, which caused a global increase in loneliness because people were confined to their homes, no longer able to gather in offices, pubs, sportsgrounds or nightclubs. But long before lockdown, it seems that people were struggling with friendship, especially the young. A YouGov study carried out in 2019 suggested that 9 in 10 people between the age of 18-24 suffered from loneliness to some degree, and nearly half had difficulty making friends.

The old solutions – join a group, volunteer – have not been viable in the past year, which makes it unsurprising that so many people have turned to dating apps to track down new pals. That’s all very well, but simply meeting new people doesn’t quite solve the problem of loneliness.

Loneliness is not the same as being alone. It can be defined as a feeling of lack in response to an insufficiency of emotional closeness and connection. Everyone has different levels of contact they feel comfortable with, which is why some are truly content in solitude, while others feel deep loneliness despite being in a relationship or having a seemingly vast circle of friends. Loneliness is not about numbers. It’s about the depth of the connection, the feeling that you are being seen and loved.

The cure for loneliness, in short, is intimacy, and the problem with intimacy is that it’s frightening. There’s a risk of being rejected or having to deal with conflict, and both these things can feel insurmountable, especially when a person has been lonely for a long time.

One of the most useful things I found out while I was researching The Lonely City is that loneliness alters your perception, magnifying any sense of social threat. What this means is that you tend to notice and remember difficult or awkward social encounters far more than those that run smoothly. Instances of perceived rudeness or rejection loom large, making the lonely person more withdrawn and less willing to reach out.

What’s important to understand is that this is a warping of perception, which does not accurately represent reality. It’s the equivalent of the anorexic’s damaged sense of their own body: a dangerous illusion that needs to be challenged on a daily basis. It was the single most helpful thing I learned during my own lonely years, though I know that during the pandemic I let myself forget it, tumbling back into the paranoid self-doubt that is the hallmark of loneliness.

The other difficulty is that we have unrealistic expectations of friendship, just as we have unrealistic expectations of romantic love, including fantasies around its permanence and stability. In fact, friendship can involve conflict, it can end brutally and it can be as deeply, intensely heartbreaking as any sexual relationship.

The work of friendship is not discussed nearly enough, which means people assume they are failing, and failing alone – once again driving a retreat into self-protective isolation. It’s crucial we understand that friendship can involve disappointment on both sides, and to build a container that means it’s safe to discuss these things, to weather strife together.

Recently, I ate dinner with my friend Jenny. In real life, on a warm London evening, forking up aubergine from the same plate. We laughed, shared family news, told each other the things we’d been worrying over. At home, alone in my study, they’d felt insurmountable, a sign that something was irredeemably wrong with me. Under the gentle scrutiny of my friend, they diminished to a normal size: just the grit of everyday traffic with other humans. I walked home feeling buoyant, nearly invincible. I need my friends. I bet you need yours.

About the Author

Olivia Laing is an author. Her latest book is Everybody: A Book About Freedom.

Original article here

18 Sep 2021
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Let the Healing Begin

“The body is everywhere assaulted by all of our new media, a state which has resulted in deep disorientation of intellect and destabilization of culture throughout the world. In the age of disembodied communication, the meaning and significance and experience of the body is utterly transformed and distorted.”

~ Eric McLuhan

“So much of the sickness is in our heads.”

~ Eric Clapton

Presence, Bliss, Tranquility. They are qualities of experience and states of being to be sure, but they do not arise only in the ethereal planes of awareness. They can exist while we are in embodiment as well. Carrying on from last week’s theme about our letting go, this coming weekend, and the early part of next week will afford us ample opportunities for accessing more of our divinity, while in our embodiment. This Monday-Tuesday, we get a breather, a blessing…a Full Moon in the expansion and dreamy sign of Pisces. Already we’re experiencing the forerunners. Strange or magical dreams and night-time dramas, restless sleep and bouts of feeling lethargic and tired, and a sense that one is walking in a fog bank. It will be helpful to reflect on these myriad states we’re entering before the exact moment of the Full Moon. That occurs at 00:54am British Summer Time. Subtract 5 hours for America’s East Coast, and 8 hours for the West. Hence why this lunation crosses over a day/night boundary.

This space will be super important to take advantage of, as the planetary and energetic aspects that unfold shortly. Next week there are some more intense energies afoot…mostly from Thursday onwards. We get a few little breaks in the action, until Mercury turns retrograde in Libra on September 27th. The real action will begin on October 1st, and reign through the whole month. But I get ahead of myself.

I inserted the quote from Marshall McLuhan’s son Eric as a reminder of why this Full Moon is so different than our abnormal digitized state of perception on the planet. This is an opportunity to connect or reconnect more deeply with our divine spark within. Whether you refer to it as your Higher Self or something else does not matter so much. You and that which is eternal are always together, always equals, and share a common awareness. No separation whatsoever! But in today’s world we may feel very hard-pressed to feel and know that Presence on a moment-to-moment basis. Now is a good time to re-establish the Foundation of your Being in the ways you feel drawn to do so.

The Eric Clapton quote is from the interview he did about his adverse injuries after having had the AZ jabs and having COVID anxiety prior to his accepting the jabs and after. Very honest and courageous man, and an amazing musician whom I’ve followed since 1966. I include it here to illustrate the (scientifically verified) fact of how we can be made to feel ill from just our thoughts and/or emotions, or from taking in toxic ideas from outside ourselves. This is about more than being a hypochondriac. One type of this condition is called psychogenic illness, and it can spread to millions of people in a matter of days or weeks…as we have seen.

With Sun in Virgo and Moon in Pisces, the themes of healing arise, especially emotional and psychic pains or wounds. Allow your feelings to flow and don’t hold anything back or judge them, no matter how messy or chaotic they might be. It’s part of the healing from releasing we all need…a cleansing. Virgo is all about the body, and about the sacredness and beauty of the divine in human form. Revere your body as such, and it will respond to your healing thoughts. Too much of humanity has forgotten what their bodies are for.

Lastly, I suggest using this time for artistic pursuits, resting, walking in Nature, Qigong, Tai Chi or yoga, meditating, chanting, listening to music (or playing it yourself!). Tuning in to the deeper knowing that is you is the key. If you are looking for information or answers outside of yourself (Sun-Virgo), okay. But come back into yourself and let your heart and spirit discover what is right for you.

About the Author:

Isaac George is an internationally recognized intuitive mentor/coach, evolutionary astrologer, conscious channel, self-published author and musician. After a life-altering spontaneous kundalini awakening in 1994 he explored various healing modalities, including hypnotherapy and Reiki. In 1998 he began spontaneously channeling Archangel Ariel and other dimensional intelligences.

Originally from the United States, Isaac currently resides in the UK and offers Spiritual Mentoring sessions and programs and Evolutionary Astrology consultations.

15 Sep 2021
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What Would Happen If Everyone Truly Believed Everything Is One?

“We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness.” — Albert Einstein

“In our quest for happiness and the avoidance of suffering, we are all fundamentally the same, and therefore equal. Despite the characteristics that differentiate us – race, language, religion, gender, wealth and many others – we are all equal in terms of our basic humanity.” — Dalai Lama

The belief that everything in the universe is part of the same fundamental whole exists throughout many cultures and philosophical, religious, spiritual, and scientific traditions, as captured by the phrase ‘all that is.’ The Nobel winner Erwin Schrodinger once observed that quantum physics is compatible with the notion that there is indeed a basic oneness of the universe. Therefore, despite it seeming as though the world is full of many divisions, many people throughout the course of human history and even today truly believe that individual things are part of some fundamental entity.

Despite the prevalence of this belief, there has been a lack of a well validated measure in psychology that captures this belief. While certain measures of spirituality do exist, the belief in oneness questions are typically combined with other questions that assess other aspects of spirituality, such as meaning, purpose, sacredness, or having a relationship with God. What happens when we secularize the belief in oneness?

In a series of studies, Kate Diebels and Mark Leary set out to find out. In their first study, they found that only 20.3% of participants had thought about the oneness of all things “often” or “many times”, while 25.9% of people “seldom” thought about the oneness of all things, and 12.5% of people “never” had thought about it.

The researchers also created a 6-item “Belief in Oneness Scale” consisting of the following items:

Beyond surface appearances, everything is fundamentally one.
Although many seemingly separate things exist, they all are part of the same whole.
At the most basic level of reality, everything is one.
The separation among individual things is an illusion; in reality everything is one.
Everything is composed of the same basic substance, whether one thinks of it as spirit, consciousness, quantum processes, or whatever.
The same basic essence permeates everything that exists.

Those who scored higher on this scale were much more likely to have an identity that extends beyond the individual to encompass wider aspects of humankind, life, nature, and even the cosmos. In fact, a belief in oneness was more strongly related to feeling connected with distant people and aspects of the natural world than with people with whom one is close! Also, while a belief in oneness was related to actual experiences of oneness (“mystical experiences”), there was no relationship between a belief in oneness and feeling closer to God during a spiritual experience.

In their second study, the researchers looked at values and self-views that might be related to the belief in oneness. They found that a belief in oneness was related to values indicating a universal concern for the welfare of other people, as well as greater compassion for other people. A belief in oneness was also associated with feeling connected to others through a recognition of our common humanity, common problems, and common imperfections. At the same time, there was no relationship between a belief in oneness and the degree to which people endorsed self-focused values such as hedonism, self-direction, security, or achievement. This means that people can have a belief in oneness and still have a great deal of self-care, healthy boundaries, and self-direction in life.

Implications of a Belief in Oneness

People who believe that everything is fundamentally one differ in crucial ways from those who do not. In general, those who hold a belief in oneness have a more inclusive identity that reflects their sense of connection with other people, nonhuman animals, and aspects of nature that are all thought to be part of the same “one thing.” This has some rather broad implications.

First, this finding is relevant to our current fractured political landscape. It is very interesting that those who reported a greater belief in oneness were also more likely to regard other people like members of their own group and to identify with all of humanity. There is an abundance of identity politics these days, with people believing that their own ideology is the best one, and a belief that those who disagree with one’s own ideology are evil or somehow less than human.

It might be beneficial for people all across the political spectrum to recognize and hold in mind a belief in oneness even as they are asserting their values and political beliefs. Only having “compassion” for those who are in your in-group, and vilifying or even becoming violent toward those who you perceive as the out-group, is not only antithetical to world peace more broadly, but is also counter-productive to political progress that advances the greater good of all humans on this planet.

I also think these findings have important implications for education. Even if some adults may be hopeless when it comes to changing their beliefs, most children are not. Other beliefs — such as a belief that intelligence can learn and grow (“growth mindset”) — are extraordinarily popular in education these days. However, I wonder what the implications would be if all students were also explicitly trained to believe that we are all part of the same fundamental humanity, actively showing students through group discussions and activities how we all have insecurities and imperfections, and how underneath the superficial differences in opinions and political beliefs, we all have the same fundamental needs for connection, purpose, and to matter in this vast universe.

Perhaps now, more than ever in the course of human history, we would benefit more from a oneness mindset.

About the Author

Scott Barry Kaufman, Ph.D., is a humanistic psychologist exploring the depths of human potential. He has taught courses on intelligence, creativity, and well-being at Columbia University, NYU, the University of Pennsylvania, and elsewhere. In addition to writing the column Beautiful Minds for Scientific American, he also hosts The Psychology Podcast, and is author and/or editor of 9 books, including Transcend: The New Science of Self-Actualization, Wired to Create: Unravelling the Mysteries of the Creative Mind (with Carolyn Gregoire), and Ungifted: Intelligence Redefined. In 2015, he was named one of “50 Groundbreaking Scientists who are changing the way we see the world” by Business Insider.

27 Aug 2021
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Coming Back to Ourselves

~ MaryamHasnaa.com

25 Aug 2021
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Life In Time-Space And What To Do About It

Who are we? Why are we here? Where are we going? Not everyone asks such questions, but some of us are driven to find the answers.

We are adept at living life in this time-space universe, but comprehending that which is one or more steps removed from this reality is not one of our specialties. We can get a sense of what lies beyond, but doing that takes as much intuition and feeling as it does intellect.

Our universe is structured by the rules of time and space. Time-space is the nature of the reality we live in: objects appear separate and distinct — this is not that. There is a sequence to events: past, present, and future — this happened before that. Currently, we are rooted in this reality, but there is infinitely more.

Time-space is not an illusion. It is very real on its own level. It is not bad, but our beliefs about it can color how we perceive it to be. Can we expand our understanding and perception to more directly sense that which is beyond time-space? Yes, but our intellect will only take us so far in that pursuit. With patience and practice, and using our intuition and feelings, we can gain a deeper experience of what is normally unknown.

For centuries people have reported experiences of self-awareness detached from their physical bodies such as experiences of near-death or expanded consciousness. There have been different ways of explaining these experiences, but the underlying conclusions are the same: who we are is more than, and independent of, the collection of chemicals and electrical impulses we call our bodies. We have an unseen side. In fact, this unseen side is who we really are. We are that and we use a physical body, as opposed to, we are this physical body and thereby we have that. What is that? Probably every language in history has had at least one name for it. The most common words in English are soul and spirit.

Our understanding of the out-of-body experience, as it is often called, is far from complete. This is difficult territory for our current intellectual nature. We are steeped in the scientific method. We use instruments to collect data. We insist on repeatability. Fortunately, scientists will continue to refine their abilities to investigate and understand extremely subtle phenomena. But some physicists readily acknowledge that there may come a time when the traditional tools of science will reach their limit of perception and become inadequate. It might not be possible to use time-space instruments to study non-time-space reality.

As long as we are attached to Earth, our ability to fully understand non-time-space will be a bit limited. Our fascination with experiencing time-space completely on its own level requires the blocking of our true unlimitedness from our human perception. Of course, we choose to do this with absolute free will. There is no coercion. If we are here, we want to be here simply because it is an incredible experience. Living a life in which the subjective experience is one of complete individuality, without the perception of the underlying oneness of all things, is extremely fascinating. In one sense, perceiving our eternal nature is not the amazing thing. The amazing thing is not perceiving it.

Finding Purpose

Living life on Earth is all-consuming. Our lives are extremely important to us. This is by design. How should we spend our time here? Be gentle with yourself and kind to others, then do whatever you want to do. Of course, there will always be the necessities of food, clothing, and shelter, although we are free to ignore those things if we are willing to face the consequences. We are free to do or not do anything, and, when the results of our choices arrive, we will make more choices. Earth life is not about finding our one perfect activity, as if not finding it would make our life a mistake. If we are honest and caring to the best of our ability, that is a great achievement. Let your interests and talents be your guide. Clarify what you desire, then create a step-by-step plan to achieve it. Engage each day with enthusiasm. Recognize the value in everything you do. Care, and do things well.

The challenge is that things do not always go smoothly. Sometimes, outside circumstances can make things difficult, and sometimes our own internal worries and fears can be strong. Recognizing and healing our fears is an important part of life. Do not be afraid to listen to the voice of your heart and mind. Your fears cannot harm you, and, with gentle attention, you can heal them.

Fear is whatever interferes with our internal balance. In obvious and subtle ways fear can affect how we feel and behave. Outer circumstances might be challenging, but if we pay attention to our reactions to them, we will learn much about ourselves.

Whenever we are unduly critical or harsh toward others, it is due to an underlying fear of some kind. If we see someone who looks or acts in a way that makes us overly judgmental of them, notice that reaction. Practice being accepting. Oftentimes, people are the way they are partly because of how they were raised or how they have been treated. Certainly, we all make our own choices in every moment, but we haven’t all been given the same positive influences and advantages. We don’t know the internal and external struggles that others face.

It takes courage to face our challenges. When you are feeling judgmental of, or irritated with, someone take a step back and muster patience and understanding. Direct compassion toward them and say to yourself, “I love you. I support you. I bless you.” Feel this softening of your heart. It will benefit both of you, especially you.

Relax

Most of us can benefit from taking more time to relax, to tune into what’s going on inside. Relax one or more times a day. It can be done in minutes throughout the day. There are fine relaxation and meditation techniques available, or, simply sit down, close your eyes, relax all your muscles, and feel what’s going on in your chest area. Release the tension in your heart and lungs. With a little practice you will be able to lower your stress level within seconds. It is not difficult.

If you have fifteen or twenty minutes available, sit in a comfortable chair, or lie down if possible, close your eyes, and let go of pressing thoughts. With a few exhales of your breath, feel all the muscles in your body relax. When you exhale, let your lungs stay empty for several extra seconds. Do this only a few times, then breathe normally. Feel your heart rate slow down. You will feel the tension in your body melt away. If you buy a simple blood pressure monitor from a pharmacy, you will be able to measure this directly.

Relax your thinking. Be an indifferent witness to stray thoughts. They don’t matter. Notice yourself expanding, but not in a physical sense. It is not a feeling of getting larger in the room or floating upward in the room, sky, or outer space. Those are time-space concepts. Your expansion is interdimensional. Just relax and feel limitations slip away. Relaxation is a time for simple openness. Repeat to yourself, “I am now and always open to the love and support of my whole self.” Let yourself feel a sense of wholeness. Let whatever happens, happen. Even if you seem to sleep briefly, that’s okay; it may not be normal sleep.

If you wish, during periods of deep relaxation, you can create quiet feelings of contentment or joyfulness. Simply think a word such as gentleness, kindness, clarity, or patience; think the word easily and then for several seconds let the underlying feeling happen without effort. This will be subtle yet potent. Try different words a few times each. Try thinking me as soul, and let soft feelings of expansion and love filter in. If you wake up in the morning a few minutes early, you can do this while you’re still in bed and very relaxed. Deeper feelings will come more automatically with practice over time. Regular periods of such gently guided relaxation will benefit your daily life.

You can relax anytime, anywhere, even for just thirty seconds. When you get in your car, sit for a minute before driving. Don’t turn on the radio. When you arrive at your destination, sit for a minute. You can sense calmness even while focusing on something else.

It can help to leave the television, telephone, and other devices off a little longer. Listen to yourself a little more. Keep your entertainment content kind and uplifting, not uncaring or violent. Recognize and appreciate the goodness in the people and the world around you. Keep your physical, mental, and emotional energies well balanced.

Love And Relationships

Creating loving friendships is among the most wonderful of things we can do as human beings. We are each born with a strong desire to give and receive love. This motivates us to interact and share with others. If we are careful not to dampen this impulse with intolerance or the fear of pain, it will lead us to many fulfilling experiences.

Treat those around you with respect. Be supportive and encouraging. We are all learning, so be patient and understanding whenever you are disappointed or frustrated by the actions of another. Be a calm teacher when you have the opportunity. Savor the time you spend with those close to you, and aim for unconditional love in every relationship.

Be the best that you can be, then engage with the world and let your intentions be known. Be friendly, be open, and you will create many opportunities for sharing love.

Health And Death

We are not our bodies, but our bodies are the vehicles through which we engage life in this time-space reality. Illness cannot harm who you are. It is not badness. Aging is not badness, but our attitudes about aging can color our experience of it. Death is not badness. Death is simply leaving the body and not coming back to it. When you take off a heavy coat, you are still you. We do not truly lose our loved ones through death.

Fear of aging is not helpful. What is helpful is realizing that living more years creates more opportunities to learn and teach, both with our words and as an example. Many have come to believe that aging means becoming unhappy and burdensome to our families and society. It would be more appropriate to recognize that there is much to be gained by those who help someone in need, and to appreciate the contributions that the older generation can make to our communities. Wisdom comes from years of living. Balance, empathy, and an understanding of the nature and purpose of life come from paying attention over time. When older truly is wiser, everyone benefits.

If we have strong beliefs about what happens at and after death, those beliefs can color our initial experience for better or worse. It is best to be open to letting the experience unfold without fear. Reading descriptions of near-death experiences can be helpful, but they describe just the beginning of the transition. Our brains are not designed to fully comprehend our non-time-space nature. Just let the transition happen easily.

When we decide to leave Earth, we will have developed ourselves to a very high degree. A graduate of time-space is a highly regarded, wondrous being. Consider Earth life in the context of an infinite number of other possibilities. Contemplate this occasionally, not as an escape from the challenges of life, but as a way to more fully appreciate your time-space existence. Relax and enjoy.

Original article: SpiritofChange.org

19 Aug 2021
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Completion and a New Beginning – Full Moon in Aquarius, Sunday, August 22nd 2021

Well, I’m back…sort of. Technically still on sabbatical until Monday, August 23rd, but there are too many things popping that need some attention. The main one is the upcoming second Full Moon in Aquarius in less than a month. It bookends the one that occurred on July 23rd at the 1st degree of Aquarius. This Sunday, the 22nd of August, the second one will be at the 29th degrees of Leo and Aquarius. The famous (or infamous) Anaretic degrees are compelling moments in any astrology timeline. Here’s an excerpt from The Dilemma of the 29th DEGREE: Thor’s Hammer or a Cornucopia? by Eileen Nauman, DH(UK):

“Astrologers know that from 0 through 28 degrees, we, as individuals, have ample opportunity to work on our stuff, work through it and change it. “Work” is defined here as our emotional and toxic wounds that we’ve accrued usually through childhood or in our twenties.

And they have to be healed. In other words, we have choice. And since we are down here to grow, the 29th degree is around to ensure that we do what is needed for ourselves — even if we don’t want to do it for a host of reasons (fear, lack of confidence, lack of faith in ourselves, etc.). The 29th degree is there to ensure we WILL do it. Or, if we’ve been running away from a lot of emotional garbage that we’ve refused to own — well guess what? It’s all going to come back to haunt you in that 29th degree.

The 29th degree from a medical astrology standpoint is a loaded keg of emotional toxic ‘dynamite’ that has been ignored for some time, even decades, and it’s sitting there ready to explode. When we have suppressed or repressed emotions, this will translate over time into actual physical, mental or emotional dis-ease.

“Of course, people have free will choice and if they elect not to try and heal their own wound, they ignore it. [For example] they can ignore Saturn transits from 0 to 28 degrees of that sign. However, when it hits the 29th degree, that person is going to have the Cosmic Hammer come down on him or her. The 29th degree is a last-ditch attempt to draw the person or experience to this individual so they can get to work on discharging the toxicity they’re carrying inside themselves.

“And so, calamity hits this person with a sledgehammer. It can be a loss of a job, the spouse wanting a divorce, having to move to another state or country, the death of a spouse or child or parent. And the list goes on…but the list of things that can happen are life changing for that individual. And that’s the power of the 29th degree coming in and confronting the individual who doesn’t want to do the work for whatever the reason. No reason, frankly, is worth avoiding our own wounding. If we drew that wound in this incarnation, it’s up to us to work through it. In working through it, we learn, grow and mature and yes, perhaps even evolve, because of our efforts.

Now, I know that you who are reading this may not have any particularly sensitive points in your own soul blueprint (birth chart) for this incarnation, but that doesn’t mean one is totally out of the woods. You and I share in the collective awareness of the soul of humanity and of the planet, so we are not immune to the knock-on effects that that can have in our personal spheres. That said, this Full Moon is akin to an initiation…for the whole human race.

The little-known dwarf planet Sedna is currently also at the 29th Degree of Taurus and is being squared by the Sun and Moon at 29 Leo and Aquarius this Saturday. Some say that Sedna represents the soul’s destiny and has a hand in illumination and new consciousness. Sedna’s orbital path takes over 11,000 years to complete one revolution around our Sun, and she is way out there beyond the orbit of Pluto, so that last time Sedna was parked at the last degree of Taurus was at the end of the last Ice Age. Sedna was a goddess of the sea and intuitive feelings that belongs to the Inuit Indians of the Arctic regions.

She entered Taurus in 1965, just as the USA civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, and the rise of the hippie era all commenced. A big shifting in human consciousness to be sure! It’s also worth mentioning that Uranus and Pluto had just entered the element of Earth just about the same time when they both conjoined in Virgo. Sedna enters Gemini in 2024, around the same time that Pluto enters Aquarius. Sedna in Taurus could be one of the factors in the rise of the digital age since 2003, but when she gets into Gemini, it might signal a new rising of human consciousness, but one not tied to artificial intelligence or binary sciences.

At the unconscious level Sedna can represent victimization, illness, alienation, trauma, and suffering. At the conscious level she can foster profound acceptance, including of how bad things currently are, transcendence, keeping one’s heart open no matter what, and having a sense of humour.

With the Sun and Moon underpinning the archetypes of Leo and Aquarius, and squaring Sedna, I feel that we are being offered an initiation. One that can work best if we consciously choose to fully individuate into our sovereign truthful selves, while realizing and cultivating our innate spiritual connection to the elements, especially water (feelings) and earth (the body). This will be the choice point offered: evolved humanity not dependent or enslaved to digital technology, and a groundswell of consciousness opening not only to the higher cosmic influences, but also the divine influence right under our feet…and our noses!

Finally, in summary, allow me to offer the last part of Eileen Nauman’s brilliant essay on the 29th Degree:

THE CORNUCOPIA SIDE TO THE 29TH DEGREE:

“There is a positive side to the 29th degree as I wrote earlier. Think of it as a cornucopia of goodies just waiting to be given to you. If you have done all your homework on yourself and done your best to discharge your toxic dump of emotions, then the 29th degree will leave you alone. Instead, something ‘nice’ will happen to you. It might be a time of joy spent with your grandchildren, your friends, or relatives. Or you attend a workshop that inspires you. Perhaps you sign up for creative schooling, such as painting, learning to write or learn to dance. It can be as simple as a wonderful lunch with a friend or a warm phone call from someone you love. Or it could be big, like a raise, a new job, a book being sold, being rewarded monetarily or in many other ways. It will be a ‘lull’ in having to always do your inner work. It’s Cosmic Gift Time, instead. A pat on the head by the Cosmos that you’ve done the dirty work and succeeded. Then, the 29th degree becomes a time of well-earned happiness in your life. And, as always, the choice of how we want to deal with the 29th degree is ours!”

The biggest issue of the day boils down to the fact that what is transpiring on the planet these last two years is only made possible by our immersion into the dreamspell of the digital domain. There is a simile to hypnosis and collective groupthink underway, exacerbated by the Saturn in Aquarius transit that promotes the group over individuation. True spirituality is about individuation of divine consciousness in the human experience. The mystic Edgar Cayce was asked during one of his trance sessions to describe Christ Consciousness. His reply was “to know thyself to be thyself, yet one with All That Is.”

Our task, as I see it defined in reflection of Sunday’s Full Moon in Aquarius, is to define who you are not by what the crowd says you should be, but who you really are and how true to that you will be. We are all being tested and testing ourselves. Let us rise to the occasion and say choose non-compliance with anything that offends our soul and spirit, and say yes to that which is sourced in love, truth, wisdom, empathy, the spirit of cooperation, and harmony with All That Is.

So be it!!

About the Author:

Originally from the United States, Isaac currently resides in the UK and offers Spiritual Mentoring sessions and programs and Evolutionary Astrology consultations.