Relationship to the darkness

2,700 words

In some way, then, that is not clear, we suspect that if there is an ultimate “explanation” for our being-here as matter, it lies in that darkness into which we peer but cannot see — what we feel and touch as our very bodies, what we understand so intimately and see so clearly and certainly but about which we can say nothing.  We have little choice but to accept this situation because, however galling it might be, we ourselves awaken into a condition of absolute immersion in that darkness.  We understand it with absolute clarity; we know of its creative power with absolute certainty; and we rely on it for our very ex­istence itself, for it is the components of our organism.  Matter’s energy, the embrace of existence, is a matter of sheer unexplained empirical fact.  It is as incomprehensible as it is absolutely familiar, undeniable and self-evident. It is the very fire and light of our lives, but utter darkness to our minds. It is us … and yes indeed, we understand it intimately.

What do I mean? If an immersion-relationship to being-here is the defining feature of our organisms, our selves, we fail to embrace the reliability of existence with its endemic thirst and emptiness at the risk of denying our very selves and the conditions under which we and our ancestors have been here and have evolved to become what we are. We cannot do that. We cannot sit in judgment on the circle of existence, matter’s energy, as if we stood outside of it; for not only our faculty of analysis and judgment but our very existence itself is an evolved function of matter’s energy. The internal incomprehensibility of being-here is now seen to have invaded our persons. The sense of emptiness, the hunger to live, which we encountered in the dynamism of existence, material energy’s self-em­brace, we now see resides at the core of our very selves and lights the fire of our conscious presence; for we are-here without escape (not even death can annihilate the material energy that we are) and our very consciousness is a tool of our inherited determination to survive. We accept it. To fail to do so implies personal self-negation.

But notice: upon realizing that our analysis of existence could not explain itself, we did not physically annihilate nor disappear. Of course not. The contradictions we encountered in our rational ruminations had no impact whatsoever on being-here. Existence clearly is not dependent on our conceptualizations; the significance of being-here and the selectivity of rational consciousness do not move in the same plane. There is a reason why we cannot make deductions about reality from our ideas alone … it’s because our intimate understanding of reality is not a function of ideas. Our consciousness is grounded in somatic experience, our bodies, our organic immersion in matter’s energy. It also supports our conclusion that the neo-Thomists’ “transcendent thrust of consciousness” tells us nothing. Conceptualization with the logic of its required “explanations,” in other words, does not correspond to the reality we have come to realize is process — energy, a dynamism we’ve described as a congenital self-embrace. And what we’re interested in is what reality is, not how we conceptualize it.

The original organic function of abstractive intelligence was not “to know” but to survive. That we “do not know” is not a problem.  Not-knowing is the expression of the very nature of what we are. We were not meant to know; we were meant to survive. “Knowing” what reality is, is not an innate mission or mandate that comes from “God,” as Rahner, Lonergan et al., would have it. Knowing is a task we have set for ourselves. It’s a valid project, but it’s entirely ours; we cannot infer anything transcendent from our voluntary pursuit of it. Nor do we have a right to expect it will tell us what we demand: “knowledge” in terms of our warehoused ideas. Our inability to know is only a problem (or a solution, as for the Thomists) if we have assumed our conscious “selves” to be (as in fact we have in the West) like “gods,” immortal spirits, striding above and beyond this world, forming divine immaterial ideas, the ultimate arbiters of all things material. We claim the right to sit in judgment on reality, submitting it to the bar of our dubiously reliable “ideas,” as if our “raptor’s claw” survival tool, abstractive conceptualization and its rationalist logic, were the very Mind of God.

In my opinion, this is the key. We divinized human reasoning — need I add, under the baneful influences of the Platonic-Cartesian illusions about the non-materiality of the human mind. From then on anything that does not yield to our concepts is judged irrational and impossible, all evidence to the contrary notwith­standing.

The evidence, however, does in fact withstand these presumptions. For, however absurd it may seem, we are-here … and we understand it intimately! Our being-here-now is something we cannot grasp with our rational intelligence, verbal-conceptual formulations and abstractive tools … but that doesn’t mean either that it is nothing or that we do not understand it. This reduces the range of possibilities offered by our conventional words even as it expands exponentially the potential for an accurate and intimate understanding of existence mediated by other cognitive mechanisms like metaphor, and the possibility of relationship. For our attempt to understand our conscious immersion in being-here trans­lates to our attempt to understand the ineffable wordless darkness — that material energy with its existential self-embrace which we are.

“Darkness,” of course, is another metaphor for this phenomenon, like the sense of emptiness. It is the living dynamism, the hunger of which we are constructed but unable to speak. It is what we are. In order to speak of this immersion we are forced to utilize our arsenal of non-con­ceptual apprehensions, our metaphorical allusions and poetic markers — myths, legends, parable-stories and witness personalities, rituals, symbols, interpretations and, most important of all, contemplative silence, to evoke, in a manner as close to presence itself as we can get, the embrace of being-here that we are. All we need do is experience ourselves being-here … the rest follows.

Hence, at the end of the day, we realize we do not “know” ourselves, … but we understand ourselves. We embrace ourselves in the transparent contemplation of a hungry and surviving energy that is “darkness” for our minds … but only for our minds. It is an understanding of existence derived from the realizations and interpretations of what lies hidden in the crystalline clarity of un-knowing and the penetrating silence of interior experience. We understand this desire and joy to be-here. It is who we are … it is what everything is. It’s why we understand one another … and all things.

Christian “revelation” and darkness

Chris­tian “revelation,” as traditionally understood and defended at least since the end of the middle ages, would turn this “darkness,” this un-know­ing, into “light,” that is, into conventional knowledge. “Revelation,” meaning beliefs, “factual truth” as we have inherited it, fundamentally claims to present clear ideas. It pretends to take the emptiness and the darkness out of being-here and to articulate it in the form of defined concepts guaranteed by “divine authority” brokered exclusively by an infallible Church and/or the “Book.” Catholic dogma is officially labeled de fide definita (a contradiction in terms, in my opinion). Dogma recapitulates the partializing dis­tortions of abstraction that we have been trying to get in perspective through­out these reflections.

Conventional knowledge — concepts — is the unequivocal goal of Ca­tholic dogmatic definitions. For, by claiming to “transcend” the dead-end of rational enquiry, “revela­tion” attempts to deny the ultimate significance of the unknowability, the Mysterium Tremendum that philosophy un­covered. The Void, the darkness, the emptiness, we must understand, is not a concept. It is the antithesis of all concepts. It is a Mega-Metaphor; the ultimate figure that describes our experience of being-here, our contemplative appreciation of the ineffable dynamism that drives becoming and gives meaning to our world and our very persons as part of that world. It is the force responsible for evolution. It is sacred for us for it is our very own lust for life. We experience it internally, we understand it intimately and with an unshakable certitude for it is ourselves, but we do not know what it is.

It’s relevant to remember that before the Middle Ages, in the more ancient Christian view, revelation was not considered defined dogma. Revelation for the ancients exclusively meant the Scriptures. John Scotus Eriúgena, for example, believed the result of rational enquiry, Philosophy, was not transcended by the Scriptures but rather was restated there in symbolic terms.[1] The Scriptures, he said, were allegories and symbols, “figures” (= metaphors) that represented the self-same truth discovered by Philosophy. We will recognize this as the view of all the Fathers from Origen to Gregory of Nyssa in a living tradition that went back to Philo of Alexandria. In fact, for this tradition, as far as “knowledge of God” was concerned, Philosophy was the more direct and literal of the two. Scrip­ture was believed to provide stories and symbols designed to make the ethereal truths of Philosophy intelligible to the people who were not philosophers. The real “truth” contained in the symbols of scripture was Philosophical. Scripture did not trump Philosophy. The two were parallel modes of expression. There was only one “truth.”

In this perspective, the bottomless Unknowable Ground into which the roots of reality sank and disappeared was a discovery of Philosophy that always remained insuperable. Ancient Christian mysticism as represen­ted by the apophatic tradition of Pseudo-Diony­sius and Gregory of Nyssa, was constructed on exactly that foundation. Outside of the person and work of Jesus (who was quickly assimilated to Greek Philosophy’s Logos), there was no “new” infor­ma­tion about “God” to be found in the Scriptures. The Scriptures were symbols and stories which blended and flavored the “truth” of the Unfathomable Mystery — giving a “human” face to the Utter Darkness at the base of reality for the edification of the ordinary people. “God” was categorically unknowable and the role of revelation was only to provide metaphors for the darkness, not knowledge.

Since the days of the ascendancy of the claims of the infallibility of Ca­tholic dogma, revelation has come to be presented not as figures and me­taphors of the unknowable, but rather as “facts” that were allegedly known but just happened to be beyond unaided discovery and rational comprehension. This had a long historical development.[2] As the Church became associated with, and then progressively exercised in its own right the imperial prerogatives of the theocratic Roman State, its declarations about the “truth” became more arbitrary, authoritarian and “definitive.” Beginning with Nicea (with the personal intervention of the Emperor Constantine himself), the Church acted as if it had inside information that defined “God,” the Logos, the Trinity, Grace, the after-life, and was the only one that knew exactly how that information was to be used in practice. Fundamentally what it did was to reify legitimate religious metaphors, and turn them into gratuitously infallible dogmatic concepts, entities, qualities, reasons and explanations — facts taken literally. The upshot of this was to change the significance of mystery from “unknowable” to “unintelligible,” and the method of expression from metaphor to defined dogmatic verbalized concept. As I grew up, every Catholic schoolchild was taught and believed that the “facts” of religion were fully known. The only “mystery” was what they meant!

But as far as “knowledge” was concerned, it meant that the Catholic Church “knew” everything that could possibly be known about “God.” It solidified the Church’s exclusive and universal role in “salvation.” It was the basis for an ideological absolutism that dominated western culture for a thousand years and still has influence to this day.

preserve the question … celebrate the darkness

The only way for religion to safeguard the integrity of the Unknown that our analysis of presence-in-process revealed to us, is to accept the “truths of revelation” not as conceptualized “facts” but as powerful evocative metaphors, creative instruments designed to preserve the question, not give an answer, … to celebrate un-know­ability, the “absent explanation,” which is our life … and to bundle the unknown remainder into relationship with what, at root, is our very selves. For traditional Christianity this is not the 180o turn it appears to be. Our mystical traditions, going back past the Middle Ages, beyond the Cappadocian Fathers, beyond even Philo of Alexandria to the origins of Mosaic Yahwism, have always spoken of “God” as the Unknowable One. Moses’ code demanded that graven images be forbidden lest we dared to imagine we “knew” the One-Who-Has-No-Name, Yahweh, which Philo tells us was a word that means “Nameless,” “Imageless.”[3] The surrender of the claim to possess conceptual “knowledge” of God means the end of “dog­ma.” That will mean the surrender of human control, and an end to the arrogance of the sectarian religious enterprise.  It accepts our ignorance. It confirms us in our utter humility, dethrones the overrated rational human “intellect” as the ultimate arbiter of reality, challenges the haughtiness spawned by our technological prowess and the false human superiority it implies, rejects the anti-material, anti-body, cerebral and gender-distorting assumptions of the Platonic-Carte­sian Paradigm, and lays a solid foundation for faith not as arcane “knowledge,” a canonical gnosis, but as unconditional trusting surrender to a darkness we embrace as the very core dynamism of our living selves.

I have intentionally used the same images and metaphors as the mystics because I think we are talking about the same experience.  Darkness, unknowing, emptiness, are traditional words that de­scribe the fact that the only thing we will ever know, conceptually, is our universe of matter’s energy — including us — driven to survive in the present moment by evolving endlessly.

To my mind, this is the basis for the ultimate reconciliation of philosophical enquiry and theological projection.  It not only confirms the limited conclusions of rational observation and analysis at all levels, scientific and philosophical, but it also guarantees respect for the metaphors of all religious traditions which are attempting to celebrate and relate to the powerful creative darkness instead of denying it. It also finally includes in the circle of the fully human all those people branded “atheist,” who choose to stand in utter silence before the mystery of it all, because they refuse to apply any metaphors whatsoever to the emptiness, the embrace of existence, that they, like the rest of us, encounter at the core of them­selves. We are all made of the same thirsty clay, the same hungry quest for life. For those of us who know that the very heart of the matter is that we do not know what that is, “atheists” are our coreligionists.

But it should not make us disconsolate to say we do not know. We don’t need to know; for we understand existence, and understanding opens to the possibility of relationship. Once we stop in­sisting that there must be an explanation that can be expressed in the con­ventional terms of our rational knowledge concepts, explanations, reasons, words, logic, analyses, instruments of human control — the immense mystery of being-here discloses itself. For while we may not know what it is, we experience its dynamic power and understand it from within. We possess it completely in conscious form. For we are it. We can have no more intimate understanding of it than that. We can realize our identity with it; we can hold it and be-hold it in silent contemplation; and we can express, com­mu­ni­cate and celebrate its groaning creative maternal benevolence which gave birth to this astonishing universe, with evocative metaphors, spellbinding narratives and ecstatic rituals. And ultimately we love it as our very selves …  

But we do not know what it is.

Tony Equale



[1] The end of the Periphysion

[2] This is similar to Adolph Harnack’s assessment of the significance of Nicea as the first time that belief was accepted as irrational.

[3] Philo of Alexandria, On the Change of Names, II (7) to (14) passim, tr.Yonge, Hendrickson Publishers, 1993, p.341-342.


Buddha and the Absolute

1,300 words

Efforts to correlate western theism with Buddhism always run into the same difficulty: theists try to introduce the concept of a non-material changeless Absolute into a Buddhist world of empty ephemeral “things” that exist in a roiling process of constant composition and decomposition. “Absolute” is a concept that is necessarily non-material and changeless. It is because it is so totally different that it immediately evokes a “world” or a dimension of reality that is other than ours. If you conceive “God” as an “absolute” as Christian theology has always done, his relationship to the world requires a complicated explanation that is not always convincing even when it’s coherent.

Besides, to claim access to another world that is not empty, shows a fatal misunderstanding of why the Buddha refused to talk about such things. For once you introduce the “Absolute”, you have introduced permanence and non-materiality. That means the material human “self” seeks to connect with the Absolute and must think of itself as becoming (if not already) permanent and non-material. Transformative practice becomes a pursuit (or protection) of permanence and a rejection of the body. One seeks absorption into the Absolute here and/or hereafter by changing oneself and being filled with the Absolute’s non-material, non-temporal reality.

Anatman, “no-self,” would then become only a “skillful means,” a technique, a mental manipulation, a kind of self-deprecation you use to help you “act” right and fill yourself with a permanence that you do not have; it no longer characterizes reality-as-it-is. That may serve as a synthesis of Hinduism and Abrahamic theism, but however abstract and non-anthropomor­phic, it is still radically dual. If the Absolute is an entity, it is transcendently Other. It is non-material and changeless in a universe of matter, change and process. It sets up a necessary relational dynamic of imitation and infusion, whereby “salvation” consists in matching human behavior to a standard “out there” set by the Absolute Other, and those who do not conform become sinners or failures who require “forgiveness” from the Other and a metamorphosis accomplished by an infusion that changes the organism from what it is into what the Other is: from matter to non-matter; from process to permanence. Anatman disappears because the emptiness from which it is derived becomes a source of repugnance and recoil.

To do that is to abandon what I believe is Buddha’s radical religious insight and challenge: we cannot “achieve” Nirvana. Nirvana emerges from embracing our emptiness. And nirvana emerges because it is already there. We are constituted of it, like an oak tree emerges from an acorn. Our “salvation” is to embrace ourselves; “I” and my body are “two” in one flesh, one thing. The “I,” in fact, stops insisting on being acknowledged, because now it knows it was never anything separate from the body to begin with. What was there was only the human organism ― the body ― material energy-in-process. What we thought was a separate non-material permanent “self” was the organism’s own material reflex for self-preservation.

Only in a system of total immanence, where the practitioner is already fully and completely what s/he transforms into, i.e., where what becomes is what seminally is fully there, can the material universe be what it is: material energy-in-process ― what we see unfolding itself before our astonished eyes: hydrogen atoms becoming stars, suns imploding and spewing out earths, sea and soil generating living organisms, acorns developing into oaks, species evolving species endlessly. Everything is in process; and nothing comes from nothing.

This is not some esoteric insight, the solution of an exquisitely complex equation. It is simply the result of taking the evolving universe out there to be exactly and only what it appears to be, with no remainder whatsoever. What is there is exactly and only what you see. There is no other world, plane or dimension of existence. You are looking at it all, every bit of it: cause and effect, source and outflow, seed and organism, origin and emanation, Creator and Creatures. A universe in process. It’s all right there.

There is nothing more. WE ARE THAT! We belong here. We are in the only home we will ever have, and we already are all we could ever hope to be, an emanate constructed of our very source: material energy-in-process.

metaphysics and practice

I am attempting to make a point about the nature of reality for those who are trying to philosophically synthesize theism with Buddhism. I am not comparing practices, or trying to counsel a new way to practice Buddhism. This is strictly a metaphysical exercise.

Is there a cosmic “Absolute” or is there not? That is the question. Can traditional theists be Buddhists? Buddhist practice, I am saying, cannot conflate with an Absolute without abandoning its unique focus on the pre-existence of that reality which makes nirvana possible: emptiness understood as radical metaphysical contingency.

(Many people erroneously think of “emptiness” in psychological terms, as a “realization,” a subjective appropriation of the objective metaphysical fact which translates into a kind of self-deprecation. I do not mean that. I am using the word as Nagárjuna originally meant it: metaphysically. Nothing has its own “stand alone” being. “Emptiness,” sunyata, is a phenomenological description of the nature of reality.)

Nirvana pre-exists as dharmakaya because the organic matter of our bodies, when undistorted and unencumbered, exists naturally in a state of serene self-embrace: inner peace and abiding joy. For me it corresponds to the definition of material energy as existential ― i.e., matter is the very energy to exist, hence it is pure “act,” esse, necessarily one with itself, utterly undivided.

This, I am claiming, has nothing to do with reward or metamorphosis or imitation, implying an absent “reality” outside the living human organism that needs to be inserted or infused or in some other way added to the human organism to give it meaning and a reason for self-accep­tance. The organism needs nothing outside itself . . .   and therefore that fact creates a presumption that there is nothing outside the matter’s energy-in-process that constitutes the human individual, i.e., there is no non-material “soul” with an eternal destiny. The empirical “self” is the material reflex for self-preservation, a derivative of matter’s existential nature as self-embrace. Following Spinoza I call it conatus. It is a reflex of this organism. When this organism dissolves, its reflexive “self” disappears.

Embracing (realizing) that reality constitutes “enlightenment.”

This is a metaphysical discussion. I’m trying to say that the psychology of enlightenment in the Buddhist system requires a particular way of understanding reality metaphys­i­cally; and I believe that taking reality as material energy-in-process fulfills that requirement. It explains why Buddhism is not compatible with a non-material, non-changing “Absolute.”

Buddhism has no explicit metaphysics. Nagárjuna’s analysis of “emptiness” in the 2nd century c.e. was an attempt to elucidate the meaninglessness of metaphysics. His book, The Fundamentals of the Middle Way, is not itself a metaphysics. It simply takes possibility after possibility and, in repetitive fashion, shows that nothing you can bring up has its own being.

Buddhism is exclusively a practical program. Buddhism works; even though it does not evoke an Absolute. That fact alone says that a non-material, non-tem­poral Absolute, even if it existed, is irrelevant to human aspirations; but it also suggests that there is no such entity.

Theists generally insist on conceptualizing “God” as an entity that is Absolute. But those who have chosen to practice Buddhism authentically, will have to stop doing that. In fact they will have to stop imagining “God” altogether and simply acknowledge that the contingency of the universe ― the emptiness of all things, including ourselves ― is the only metaphysical “fact” that we can say we “know.”

The rest is beyond our knowledge, but not beyond our loving embrace.

What you see is what you get

2400 words

Of all the cultural phenomena we share as a species across divisions of land and language, religion stands out as perhaps the most common. Its characteristics are similar everywhere. It is the expression and the enjoyment of a bi-valent relationship that has many of the characteristics of a family. Like a family, religion binds together a number of individuals on one level, who, on another level, claim to be related to the same source of their organic life ― as the offspring of the same parents are brothers and sisters to one another. This two-directional characteristic is common to all religions. Even though some may emphasize one or the other of the two components, religion, as suggested by its Latin root re-ligere, “to bind,” celebrates the mutual binding of those who are all bound to the same source of life.

The claims of Religion, like the family, are based on objective, physical reality: the generation and survival of the living human organism. The expressions that religion creates ― creeds, rituals, moral behavior ― are all, in theory, designed to support and enhance those relationships that bind those bound to LIFE.

What sets religion apart from other families, however, is that the relationship to the source of life is disputed, not only with regard to its character, but also to its very existence. The foundational source of the religious relationship ― the “parent” ― is not visible. There is no known cause of human life beyond the reproducing human individuals. As far as human knowledge is concerned, no one directly knows who or what the ultimate, originating source of our life is.

Despite that, the great majority of humankind seems to have always had a conviction that such an ultimate source not only accounts for our abilities and dispositions as humans, but is responsible for our continued existence as a family in the here and now, and plays a determinative role in the direction of human social affairs, especially the macro-political. (Political power has been believed since ancient times to be a direct result of divine selection and conferral; and the chosen ruler has been taken to act in the place of the absent “god.” That means that religion and politics are intimately linked. Indeed, in the history of humankind most governments have been theocracies, and even our supposedly “secular” American system is grounded on tacit religious assumptions which many feel should be made explicit.) A implication is that the state is a religious entity. This is not an insignificant aspect of our history as a species.

This conviction of a common organic source has led religion to claim that its common destiny as a family is not gratuitous, but has arisen naturally and inevitably from its origins which continue to sustain human social existence here and now. In other words Religion, as a global phenomenon (disregarding local exceptions), is not a self-defense mechanism, a “circling the wagons” by terrified human beings who find themselves naked and alone in an alien and hostile universe. In the aggregate it has assumed just the opposite. Religion is the attempt to extenuate into adulthood the sense of family that naturally arises for every individual during the long period of nurturing that follows birth. Psychologically speaking, religion is simply the expected continuation ― the unsurprising furtherance ― of a lived reality in which the individual is loved, cared for and directed by the people who gave it life. As the individual continues its identity, it continues to expect that a protective, familial context will enwrap it.

An illusion?

Sigmund Freud in his 1927 book The Future of an Illusion, identifies the child’s fantasy of always having a hovering, protective parent providentially overseeing every event of its life ― a source of psychological security and optimism ― as the ultimate source of (western) religion’s projection of an imaginary Father-God. This dove-tails with the family view suggested above. But, basing itself on science, it denies the perennial claims of western religion that it is grounded on the creation and continuation of life. Western religion has always made a quasi-scientific claim about the origin and nature of the universe. It has always assumed the Biblical book of Genesis to be a literal rendering ― a kind of science ― which said that “God” made this universe of matter. It is precisely religion’s physical, material claim that was denied by Freud that makes religion an illusion.

The fact of the matter is we now know that the Genesis account is not literal; it’s an imaginary reconstruction. But at the same time, logically speaking, it seems Freud overreached, because modern science hardly has much more to offer. All science can verify is that there is no rational teleology ― no discernible purpose ― functioning in our universe, and as far back as its origins in the “big bang,” there is no evidence that there ever was. The universe and its evolution are a function of the autonomous evolution of material energy, not the work of a rational craftsman no matter how omnipotent and omniscient it is said to be. But as to the source of life, science admits that it does not know.

The conflict here between Freud and the traditional view is representative of the way we have generally approached religion: as a question of knowledge. Traditional religion claims it knows “God” created the world, and Freud claims that science knows that there is no cosmos-con­struc­ting “God.” But, in fact, no one knows. Western religion did not know that “God” created the world, it believed someone’s imagined narrative; and Freud did not know the origins of LIFE; he simply believed science would “someday” discover it. But regardless of the collapse of his premise, Freud’s decision to explore the psychological origins of religion as a semi-patholo­gi­cal clinging to childhood ― a refusal to grow up ― is now generally acknowledged to have revealed a distortion of religion’s family sense: he correctly saw that western religion involved the projection of “God” as a micro-mana­ging parent. I do not consider religion an illusion, but I wholeheartedly agree with his assessment.


This conflict has divided humankind’s self-perception, and sense of family, in profound ways. But it turns on our reliance on knowledge, and knowledge cannot solve this conflict. But if we approach the question from a different angle altogether ― from human experience ― a way opens that bypasses knowledge and apprehends reality affectively.   By “affective,” I am referring to sensory features of the human organism that have emerged precisely to provide a direct and consistently reliable contact with the entire material environment for the purposes of securing survival. What makes this type of contact objectively valid is that it works. Affectivity is a term that I am using to acknowledge the multiple pathways to the apprehension and embrace of reality other than the conscious thinking associated with the use of words, the symbols of human mental images. A large and complex observational apparatus is available to the human organism that provides individuals with a much wider and richer “picture” of the reality around them ― a picture that cannot always be put into words ― but that is not based on fantasy and projection. The information these less acknowledged pathways supply to the organism is often absorbed subliminally, which the conscious mind is unaware of but the organism as a whole “sees” and reacts to in ways that we call “instinctive.”[1]

By “instinct” I do not mean guesswork, a parallel pathway to knowledge that avoids the hard work of research and testing. I mean the unrecorded somatic reactions that direct a quarterback, for instance, to anticipate with amazing accuracy exactly where his moving receiver will be when his pass arrives; or the unthinking but infallible gyrations changing the center of gravity that occur when someone slips on a banana peel and keeps themselves from falling. In introducing these instinctive pathways, I do not mean either to exclude the more conscious conceptual connections or to trivialize them. I am merely trying to broaden our usual imagery about ourselves to include what science now knows to be an array of unconscious and semi-conscious receptors that enhance our survivability within our environment by giving us a more complete objective picture of reality. The organism as a totality “sees” more than the mind; and what it “sees” is absolutely factual: it helps it to survive.

The fact that these many tentacles to the things around us are not all conscious draws attention to our seamless unity with the world. We are not bodiless “minds,” alien spirits wandering on a planet of hostile matter; we are multifaceted biological organisms immersed in our earth matrix like a sponge in the sea. We are the spawns of this planet, its offspring. We remain connected to it umbilically for life-support; if you separate us from it we will die. We belong here and nowhere else.

When we allow ourselves the affective contact with reality that the entire sensory apparatus of the human organism is designed for ― transcending the narrow, myopic, truncated, word-based mental operations traditionally considered “knowledge” ― suddenly “reality” takes on a new and unexpected dimension. We “see” things as perhaps never before. For the material human organism finds itself in a state of a deep and quiet joy simply being embedded in and connected to the life support systems for which it evolved its particular forms and features. When the human being is allowed to be what it really is: a biological organism fully enjoying its perfect adaptation to the earth’s environment from which it emerged, the disequilibrium that is said to uniquely undermine and sicken human existence, instantly evaporates.

This experience gives rise to the suspicion that, all along, there was an erroneous identification of the human being with an imaginary separate entity called “mind,” together with an idolatrous exaltation of abstract thought ― knowledge ― as somehow divine, that contributed to our malaise. We are bodies, but we told ourselves we were disembodied spirits. We tried to live that way and it made us sick. When, finally, we allow ourselves to be what we are, and our survival community shares, supports, promotes and defends that biological reality, we live in a state of inner peace individually, and in harmony with one another socially.

Growing up

In addition, with the disappearance of the alienation generated in us by our tragic belief that we are disembodied spirits, we find we no longer need to maintain the infantile fantasy of a hovering, controlling “Father-God” whom we imagine to be a “spirit” who wants us to be good. “Being good” in our tradition has always meant to become a “spirit” like him: to identify with our rational minds and to disassociate ourselves from our bodies and everything material as alien to our “spiritual” destiny. And to that end “God” was said to send us impulses (grace) that would generate guilt and aversion for what our bodies incline us to do, and entice us away from “this carnal world” with offers of immortality as spirits in the world of no-bodies to which we have been taught we really belong.

But once we no longer need a “God” to help us to be what we are not, we find ourselves secure in what we are. We discover that we have all the equipment and instincts we need to nestle safely in our earth home with our family, ruled by systems of justice and works of compassion that WE have devised for ourselves after millennia of living together. We put what we learned into the mouth of “God” to make it easier for our children to follow our advice.

We become increasingly awestruck at the child-like qualities of the powerless invisible SOURCE OF LIFE, whose effusive and selfless material energy constitutes our bodies. It is that fertile living energy that has driven evolution and produced these marvelous organisms that we cherish and enjoy. We can acclaim that SOURCE OF LIFE for what it is and what it has done, without even knowing it directly. We don’t need to project onto it our regressive needs to have a parent who tells us what to do and reads us bed-time stories that death is not real. We know what to do. And we know we will die. Our multi-valent, instinctive bodies tell us what to do and they know how to let go when death comes. And we can love our SOURCE OF LIFE for the gentle, fragile and defenseless thing it really is, and what it has made of us, and stop fantasizing tyrants taken from our own worst examples of people who need to dominate others to engorge and deify themselves. We have often imagined “God” that way.

When we finally grow up, we no longer project a “God” of our imagination that is not there. We begin to cherish and try to imitate the real SOURCE OF LIFE that comprises and suffuses our bodies, an invisible living energy at the very core of our being that we are in touch with every moment of every day, that is more intimate to us than we are to ourselves, the ground of our being-here, whom our ancestors called by many names: “LIFE,” “Fire,” “Wellspring,” “Ground,” “Source,” “Breath,” “Love,” “Being,” and, the name that is the most cherished of all: “mySELF,” whom I love as a man worships the woman he loves, as a woman adores the man she loves, SELF-EMPTYING LIFE ITSELF, masked with my face.

I am that very same living material energy gathered, evolved and nested on this planet with my family ― all of us are the masks and offspring of the same divine fire that burns in every living thing. My body “sees” and is embraced by this reality, perhaps without ever translating it into words or pretending to call it know­ledge.


[1] Leonard Mlodinow, Subliminal, Pantheon, NY, 2012, passim; but see especially chapter 2, pp. 30-52

Christian Universalism (V)

Jesus and Buddha; the embrace of emptiness

3,350 words


Despite superficial differences, I contend there is a profound concurrence between the religious visions of Buddha and Jesus . . . and, in my opinion, it stems from their experience of being-here. The agreement consists in the fact that both of their core symbols ― the “fatherhood” of “God” for Jesus and “no self” for Buddha ― are really conceptual derivatives of the same experience, and the two apparently divergent images are simply due to the different cultural matrices in which the experience occurred. I claim that both Jesus and Buddha experienced the same thing: their radical trusting existential dependency. Neither one had any experience of the other side of the equation: where their being-here came from, i.e., what was the source and sustaining factor that accounted for their being-here and for why they spontaneously trusted it.

This is salient, particularly, in the case of Jesus where it has been assumed by a naïve literal take on the gospel narrative and mediaeval theological retrospection, that Jesus had direct, person-to-person knowledge of “God” the “Father” because he was “God” the “Son.” I deny that, and I am supported in that opinion by scripture scholars of all denominations. There was no “trinitarian” reference in Jesus’ awareness of the “Fatherhood” of “God.” His reaction was that of a believing Jew who, upon emerging from the Jordan after a life-changing act of personal surrender, fully embraced what his Judaic tradition told him was his “creature-hood” launched and sustained by Yahweh his “Creator.” Furthermore, his reading of the prophets and the psalms had subsequently defined and refined the personal bearing of Yahweh as one of total personal benevolence, and the word “father” was the most apt image for that reality.

But I want to emphasize: Jesus did not “see” anything. What he saw was his own existential dependency along with the spontaneous sense of trust in life that he had experienced since infancy which his family and religion had reinforced. He was as blind to the source that sustained him as the most hardened atheist. His innate trust had been interpreted by the consensus of the community to mean the benevolence of Yahweh, his Creator.

In the case of Buddha the “quest for enlightenment,” was a culturally encouraged religious pursuit which had a long and revered tradition behind it. It was a quest in which many people in Buddha’s time were already intensely engaged and to which Buddha himself had dedicated many years of personal effort at great cost to his standing in the world. It predisposed him to find what he did. That the “liberation” he experienced took the form of ending the cycles of samsara ― “chasing the wind” ― that enervated daily life and poisoned human community, is no great surprise. Samsara had long been identified as the cause of human sorrow in the Hindu tradition. Buddha’s discovery was not a new religion. It was a simple advance on the elusive Hindu asceticism that had preceded him. He found that mortifying insatiable desire ― no matter how long and how intensely ― was not sufficient to end samsara. What was missing was denying the “self” that lay behind it. It was a unique insight that allowed for a “middle way” between an impossible and fruitless asceticism and a life of self-gratifying illusion.

Once the illusory “self” was identified as the real culprit ― the hidden demon that kept trying to dig, or build its way out of a trusting emptiness ― denying the pretensions of the self proved to be the key to personal liberation and community harmony. Buddha did it by saying there was “no self.” There was nothing to build, and nothing to protect, because there was nothing there. It allowed for the pursuit of a middle path in ascetical practice that led directly to the goal of Buddhist meditation: letting go.

The key point for this reflection is that by eliminating the “self,” what was being held in a trusting embrace was emptiness. For to say there was “no self” was precisely to affirm a transcendent confidence in the totality of all things in which we are sustained like the knots in a cosmic net. There is nothing to us. We are the product of other things. We are “caused,” in Buddhist terminology, by a multitude of causes, proximate and remote, which are themselves similarly caused. The entire network is also empty; it is somehow sustained and he never asked how or why. It was sufficient to understand that certain attitudes and behavior follow from the fact. We are not a stand-alone, independent self and the desires that assume and nourish that illusion must be challenged by unmasking the fallacy ― the “self” ― that gives them their energy. Mortification had to be directed at reducing and eventually eliminating the fallacy of the “self.” The entire exercise is in function of embracing emptiness.

I am claiming that neither the Buddha nor Jesus saw anything. They had insight. Just like you and me, they saw themselves for exactly what they were: existentially dependent items in a vast universe to which they belonged, spawned by forces that impacted the totality, and which they trusted totally. For the Buddha those forces ― whatever they were ― were not him “self.” They were part of a totality that could be trusted. For Jesus, it was a personal force, Yahweh, whom he was taught had brought the whole cosmos into being, and him as part of it, that could be trusted. The Buddha’s lack of concern for identifying any ultimate source, turned out to be ironically identical to Jesus’ belief that it was Yahweh’s craftsmanship ― for we now know that Jesus was dead wrong. That means that, in fact, he also knew nothing. The only factual experience that they had ― and they both had the same ― was their experience of their own existential dependency, or emptiness, in conjunction with a spontaneous trust in being-here interpreted by their religious traditions. It should go without saying, that all of us, believer, agnostic or atheist, live in the same universe with the same human organism as they. We all have the same experience. Trusting that experience and the biological organisms that share it, is what I call faith.

*       *       *       *       *

This discussion of the concurrence of Buddha and Jesus is recapitulated in every human being. The human organism spontaneously infers what is missing in the picture of its dependent existence. The fact is, there is no personal, rational, planning, purposeful, hovering providential “God”-Creator-of-the-Universe that anyone knows, no matter how intensely they claim to believe it. No one has ever met “God” nor related concretely and directly to the source of its being-here. Those who claim such a “person” exists are projecting an inference, often transferred to an image or a religious belief, not an experience. If we are honest we have to say we have no direct evidence ― only indirect clues left by the existent structures in our world ― of the ultimate source of being-here. We have to admit that all we know directly and empirically is our emptiness and that of everything we know in the universe considered alone or as a totality. The rest is projection.

However, not all projection is unfounded; some is the result of valid inference. First, the metaphysics is undeniable. Being-here has to be accounted for either in itself or in its cause(s). The very fact of emptiness immediately implies a correlate that explains how some­thing that cannot account for its own existence can be-here. In the case of human beings dependency is evident in a myriad of ways that affect virtually every aspect of the human organism’s presence in the world throughout life and in a most dramatic and undeniable way at death. Making the inference implied in all this conditioned existence results in a “concept,” an idea called “ultimate and necessary source.” An emptiness of the character exhibited by a human organism requires a corresponding “filling” source to account for all of it ― and from the number of manifestations of dependency there is clearly a need for a multitude of sources which must finally include the source of the being-here itself of the entire network.

But that’s all we ever have: the flip-side of our emptiness. “Source” is gallingly abstract: it is an intellectual image that receives every bit of its concrete character from the nature of the emptiness it is filling. Let me emphasize: the projected image ― the idea ― of the unknown source is exactly as empty as the effect that elicits it. All the effect can tell us is that the source must some­how possess what the effect lacks. We never encounter any “thing” we can call “ultimate source.” We only generate an idea required by our intellect looking with great perplexity at one side of an obviously multisided relationship and where the principal source of being-here itself ― the “other side” ― never appears or takes any identifiable shape of its own. Whatever shape it has is generated only by the inferring intellect and it is entirely determined by the shape of the emptiness from which it is epistemically derived. At the end of the inferential exercise there is not one wit more direct concrete visibility of the source than there was at the outset. The concept, “source,” is entirely exhausted in the character of the dynamic, the inference; there is no concrete image whatsoever outside of the image of the empty receptacle. Like a mirror, the only thing visible is the image it is reflecting. But there is “no-one” there.

I claim that that is what people are experiencing when they say they have had an experience of “God,” and that, in essence, it is the same as the experience of the atheist. The only concrete experience anyone has is of their own emptiness; the imagery they generate about their source is a self-projection generated by their own minds out of the elements of the dependency-experience they have of themselves as interpreted and given imagery by their community.  In other words, what they are looking at is their own foundationless self and they are picturing an inverse function that is necessarily inferred from that. The “God” they see is themselves “inside out,” as it were ― themselves with their inferred cause ― themselves, in other words, without the limitations of their perceived dependency.

This “unlimited self” comes close to what the Hindus call the Atman. In this case a local religion has elaborated symbolic imagery and corresponding rituals that are understood to refer to what always remains beyond visibility. All that is ever concretely seen is one’s empty self. The “apophatic” tradition shared by the religions of the book ― Judaism, Islam and Christianity ― is similar. Apophatic means “speechless” and refers to the absolute unknowability of “God” in those traditions ― a claim, by the way, that is most often honored in the breach, as these religions insist on giving us detailed knowledge of “God” and telling us exactly what they imagine he wants. If “God” cannot be known, as these traditions claim, then that should explain why the fears and apprehensions that derive from emptiness do not go away with mere declaration of “belief” in “God.” Belief is projection based on inference; it is not the same as know­ledge. An unknowable “God” is, psychologically speaking, the same as no “God” at all. Hence many “believers” who project such a “God” define faith as a mental struggle. “Faith” for them is not simply accepting your emptiness with trust and leaving the unknowable unknown; it is forcing yourself to imagine something that is not there; it is an exercise doomed to frustration. This is another form of samara, “chasing the wind,” and Buddha counseled against enquiring into it. Hence he never tried to explain how the entire universe could be empty.

Now in my view, no human being can avoid this experience of the empty self. Nor can anyone deny the spontaneous trust and joy of being-here, which is innate. This joy of being-here is a positive connection with the totality of things that can be clouded over, suppressed, betrayed, ignored, denied and dismissed (not to mention poisoned, tortured and punished) but never eliminated. It is an organic function of matter’s existential energy. In other words, just to be-here is to know with absolute certitude that you belong here, it is to love and desire being-here, and to rejoice at the possession of life. It is to trust your emptiness. It is not a “free” choice. It cannot be avoided. We can’t help it. It’s time we stopped second-guessing it and let it be there.



The spontaneous joy in being-here which is characteristic of all matter, continues to generate its characteristics in whatever form it assumes through the developments of evolution. Once we step back from our anthropocentric perspective ― stop putting humankind at the center of the universe ― and start looking at things from the point of view of the myriad of living species all around us, we can see that the sorrow that humans experience is exclusive to us. Every other species of living thing lives in a state of constant joy, marred only by and strictly limited to the moments of danger and hunger that are unavoidable for living organisms in a world of random occurrences. The generalized dissatisfaction that enervates humankind even in the absence of any hostile circumstances, is a suffering exclusive to us. It derives from the samsara that we alone generate because we alone can think; we can imagine what does not exist. That very often means yearning after what we don’t have and what we are convinced will make us permanently happy. But nothing can make us permanently happy. We can never overcome our emptiness; it is what we are. Meditation proposes to end thinking that is nothing but chasing the wind and to surrender to what we are by looking at it and embracing it.

Humankind is aware of its emptiness. Its conditionality is in evidence in a multitude of ways and the general daily activity of the human species ― our work ― is dedicated to responding to the need for food, clothing, shelter and protection from dangers. These are the primary objectives necessary for the procurement of survival. The sense of emptiness, however, that humans alone are aware of, doesn’t end with the achievement of daily survival. The existential dependency that underlies superficial conditionality, unlike other needs that can be satisfied, is insatiable. Its principal source is the awareness of death, but the threat of death for humans is not limited to the moments of mortal danger as in the case of other animals who do not think. For humankind the awareness lingers and devitalizes all accomplishments that otherwise might seem to hold out a modicum of satisfaction. Death pervades the human consciousness often subliminally, and death’s ultimate finality robs temporary achievements of the rest they promise. This generalized sense of dissatisfaction, by not ever finding a proper object that will put it to rest (since there is none), remains diffuse and unfocused. It is an unspecific energy that can be directed toward the pursuit of virtually anything the individuals imagine will be a source of ultimate satisfaction. It is an energy that has been used to amass fortunes and create empires, but it is all chasing the wind.

*       *       *       *       *

We think in imagery. And what we think about engages our affect toward acquisition or aversion depending on how we think it will impact our happiness. The entire enterprise is a work of the imagination. The unavoidable human awareness of emptiness guarantees that the unrestrained imagination under the blind impulse of the conatus will try to imagine a way out. What will fill the emptiness and make me happy? No amount of repeated frustration will ever convince us that there isn’t something that will work. And so we try one thing after another, sometimes even after they have proven to be failures. The society in which we live has its own ideas about what will make us happy ― usually wealth, power, fame, status, pleasure ― and it encourages people to pursue them. Much of the economy is built on selling you what you need to acquire them. We tend to internalize that message and buy what they tell us we should ― until it becomes clear that it, too, is samsara.

If we’re lucky we will run out of options before we destroy ourselves and others, trying to gather the wind. To “run out of options” means to wake up. What we awake to is the realization that we are irremediably empty across the board and that the answer is not trying to fill the emptiness (or escape from it), but to embrace it with trust. We see, at first perhaps only for a moment, that we have been chasing the wind. Of course there’s nothing to stop us from returning to those empty pursuits in despair. In most cases a sustained awakening is achieved only after a number of such episodes.

This is what Buddha means by enlightenment and Jesus means by the kingdom within us. And it’s a vision that in its practical applications is remarkably similar to religious and therapeutic programs from all over the world and from all epochs of human history. It is not simply an ascetical discipline ― a gaining control over unruly desires and aversions. It is, more importantly, a contemplative awareness grounded in an increasingly confident trust in what I am, expressed in a grateful embrace of what put me here ― whatever it may be, proximate and remote ― and a compassionate embrace of other people who are all in the same boat. The discipline is to direct behavior, seriously and consistently, toward the goals of compassion and gratitude where an expanding, ever-more confident trust calls. In the case of Jesus’ vision, the ground of trust is the love of a Father-“God” whom, he insisted, knew every sparrow that fell from the sky, and could be trusted through death.

That trust was tested in his case when his simple message was deemed so threatening to the exploiting powers that ruled his world, that he was tortured and executed for it. His followers have always revered his death as an event of universal significance for humankind. To understand it was to know the answer to the human dilemma, and to embrace it was “salvation.”  Jesus, obedient unto death, trusted his “Father.” A community of such people threatens the powers that be, because it elicits a compassion and mutual support for one another that no empire can smother or replace. It threatens the fear-of-death / master-slave system with resurrection.

But notice: this way of looking at Jesus’ crucifixion sees its significance derived from the universal condition of human emptiness and the accuracy of trust as the human response: it is a dramatic and moving example of trust in a context of utter despair. It does not claim to be doing any more than what is within the reach of any human individual trying to respond authentically to life. In other words, it draws its sacred liberating power from being the right response to the human condition, not from some storehouse of “grace” in another worldIt does not create and confer a unique meaning of its own, introjecting an exogenous “divine” into human life.  The power it transmits is a human moral energy, entirely natural, made available by Jesus’ example and grasped by the empathy of the human individuals who hear, recognize and are moved by his story. Jesus’ “obedience unto death” earned him “a name above every name” among us because he exemplified in a most graphic way the correct universal response to human emptiness.  It is its human universality that makes the cross a transcendent event for humankind.

It is the human condition that gives the cross its meaning, not the other way around.



Christian universalism (III)

the mystery of being-here: emptiness and faith

3,500 words


The turn to non-biblical sources in an early attempt to establish Christian universalism was, ironically, a scriptural event. Paul of Tarsus, in looking to justify the transition beyond a sectarian Judaism did not limit himself to the resurrection of the Jewish messiah; he turned to ancient Greek creation poetry of an immanent sustaining energy as if it were a scriptural authority. It’s significant that he did not cite Genesis. The “Fatherhood” experienced by Jesus evoked for Paul, not Moses’ Yahweh, but the universal existential experience of humankind: The “Unknown God,” said Paul, is familiar to all of us. “God” is where “we live and move and have our being.” Paul’s “God,” near though “unknown,” was the same as Jesus’ “Father.” We have known “God” all along through our very own being-here.

What name Moses had once given “Yahweh” based on what he expected from him ― a violent liberation from Egyptian slavery and later the spoils of conquest: wealth and power ― was now superseded because Paul could see that Jesus, obedient unto death, trusted “God” as his “Father” and it had nothing to do with wealth and power. Paul was unambiguous: “God’s” Fatherhood is bound up with sustaining our being-here. And our being-here was no mere extrinsic relationship to gift and giver. It was an organic immersion in the source itself. We were embedded in “God’s” reality like a sponge in the sea; we were an intrinsic part of “God.” And there was nothing supernatural about it; the relationship to “God” was not conditioned on being a Jew, and it preceded any membership in the Christian community and access to the sacraments. Where we “live, move and have our being” ò theos for Epiménides, a poet of the 6th century b.c.e. ― was Paul’s Greek translation of the “Fatherhood of God.”

[Please note: I am using the term being-here and not “being” because I want to emphasize the concrete nature of existence and our ordinary human perception of it. We all know exactly what that means.

The term “being” by itself, however, has traditionally been used to refer to all kinds of things, and probably most often an abstract philosophical idea. The “idea of being” or the “concept of being” is not a “thing” out there somewhere. We have to be reminded of that because all the characteristics of “God” that are listed with such definitive authority by the practitioners of mediaeval philosophical theology, come exclusively from an analysis of the concept of being. That is an exercise in abstract logic applied to a concept ― a human mental product with no empirical connection to reality whatsoever. But because it is logically impossible to deny the comprehensive all-inclusive character of the concept of “being,” it has been taken to be “God” in our tradition. It was this logical lock on the human mind ― equating “being” with “all possible perfections” ― that has called forth, over and over again in the history of western thought, the claim that being able to think the concept of “being” was itself a proof of the existence of that to which it referred, “God.” These have been called “ontological proofs” because they are based on necessity as an intrinsic quality of “being” (but note: as a concept). “Being” had to be there because it is absolute and universal and includes the “perfection” of actual existence, and what was “absolutely perfect” was what we call “God” and so “God” had to be there.

So, I repeat, I do not mean that. What I mean by being-here refers to something else.

Being-here refers precisely to the real presence of things ― what makes them actually here, now, and not just an idea, a future possibility or a past memory. There is nothing absolute or transcendent about being-here. The concept of being-here is the generalization of a present experience; it does not pretend to refer to something that is not experienced in real time. That is the difference. The Platonic idea of “being” was believed to be more than what gave it rise; it was thought to have its own separate, independent existence. Being for the Greeks was an entity, a “thing” called “God.”

The phenomenon which is the human experience of being-here has certain common, universal and undeniable characteristics that derive exclusively from generalizing on those experiences.  First, it is a sensory perception and therefore whatever mental features it generates are bound to the human body as a bank of sensory receptors . . . the human organism is the absolute inescapable place where the perception of being-here occurs. Even were the experience to happen during a reverie of the imagination ― a kind of Cartesian “meditation” ― it is a bodily experience and cannot occur without its material foundation. Hence, being-here is a material experience; whatever “mental” dimensions it may have, they are tightly bound to the sensory apparatus of the body.

Being-here, I contend, is the empirical counterpart of the traditional notion of “creation.” It constitutes the most important single element grounding agreement among all religious traditions, regardless of where they may situate it in their particular hierarchy of “beliefs.” That we are-here in this world that is-here and how that all came about is one item of primordial significance common to all. Today, we recognize that the question corresponds to a universal desire to know ― a curiosity not entirely alien to awe, but not bound to it ― and thus is legitimately considered separate from religion. Before the age of science, however, no such separation was even thinkable.

For the Genesis thinkers there was no distinction between science and religion. When they said “God made the world” they were responding to their “scientific” need to explain how this spectacular world got here and at the same time they were following their own religious sense of existential dependency and need to connect with their source of existential support. Imagining that there was “someone” who could put together the incredible world they saw before them, a world which included their own body-persons, inspired a profound and insuperable wonderment. The world ― “creation” ― was the revelation of a transcendent existential power and engineering ability that spawned us; it was our “Father” in whom we all ― the entire cosmos ― live and move and have our being. It became the ground of religious universalism.

The starting point and constant guide for the religious journey is being-here. At some point we wake up to the fact that we are-here, and didn’t have to be. It is the beginning of the experience of faith.



The keystone in the study of religion is the full understanding of the universal phenomenon of faith ― a word that in this essay does not refer to religious beliefs. Here, faith means the acquiescence to a relationship of trusting existential dependency that entails moral responsibility.

The content of the experience of faith, as I conceive it, is existence: being-here, what we call life.  Briefly my intention is to show that the principal elements of natural religion flow directly from a trusting existential dependency. Faith, like morality itself, is a natural, spontaneous and irrepressible reaction to life. It comes with being human; it may take unexpected and unfamiliar forms some of which may appear to be quite irreligious, paranoid and immoral, but it cannot be avoided or eliminated.

Religion, in a second step, is the organized social expression of faith. It is an inevitable development; for wherever there is a common set of significant experiences among human individuals, it will always find social interpretation and expression. As time goes on and social context changes, any particular religion may or may not maintain its expressiveness for the faith of the group using it. Religions change for the same reason they emerged to begin with: the spontaneous faith generated by existential dependency will always seek confirmation, interpretation and a symbolic expression agreed on by the community. Because faith is, as I claim, natural, spontaneous, irrepressible and universal, it will always force religion to emerge where it doesn’t exist, or evolve where it does. All religions maintain their authenticity by evolving; for it is only by evolving that they continue to be a credible expression of spontaneous faith. And faith without religion ― without an anchor in the consensus of the community ― can go in any direction.

Faith and emptiness

‘Faith is a relationship of trusting existential dependency that generates moral responsibility.’ There is more to that definition than meets the eye. As the first step in unpacking it I want to clarify the term existential dependency. What it means is what the Buddhists of the Middle Way meant by sunyata, “emptiness.” That word was the fulcrum of a metaphysical analysis ― a theory of being ― that they elaborated to understand and explain Gautama Buddha’s much earlier teaching on enlightenment (which he did not explain in metaphysical terms).

Emptiness was not a subjective feeling, or a phase in ascetical progress like a “dark night of the soul.” It referred to a permanent objective metaphysical condition. It meant that characteristic in things that made them incapable of being-here on their own. To be “empty” meant to not have the wherewithal to make oneself be-here; it meant to be existentially dependent on some­thing(s) other than one’s self for one’s own being-here.

Now the Buddhists elaborated the concept of emptiness in a way that coincided with the universal interconnection of causes that are operative in the production of any phenomenon. They called it “co-dependent co-arising.” Everything that is-here, every phenomenon of whatever kind, regardless of whether it appears to be a stand-alone “thing” or just a quality of a thing, is dependent upon a multitude of factors other-than-the-phenomenon in question that must also be present and operative for that phenomenon to be-here. For example, in order for the rose to be-here, other things that are not the rose must also be-here and functioning. There must be soil, water, warmth, sunlight, pollinating insects, etc., etc. And for there to be those proximate causes there also need to be an array of more remote geological and atmospheric conditions producing and sustaining them. All these factors are co-depen­dent and they must all arise and be-here at the same time or there will be no rose. The idea dovetails with the Buddhist idea of “no-self” (anatta, or anatman) because the co-depen­dent co-arising of any phenomenon from and with its causative factors proves that the phenomenon under examination is, in reality, not itself.   Its very self is being actively produced and sustained by a multitude of things that are not itself.

Keeping this dimension of existential dependency in mind shines a spotlight immediately on its universal character. For it means that emptiness is a characteristic of absolutely everything that exists; all things are empty of their own existence, and the very fact that they are-here indicates that everything else on which they all depend also has to be-here. This clearly involves the whole of the material universe. Everything, including every human being, exists in and, more significantly, is dependent upon a vast matrix ― a network that embraces the totality of things that are-here.

Now I claim this sophisticated “philosophical” analysis is performed spontaneously and wordlessly in real time by every conscious human being on the planet and at a relatively early age. Everyone is aware at some level of conscious articulation that they are empty of their own being: they are not self-originating and they are not self-sustaining; they did not put themselves here, they rely on a multitude of other things to keep them being-here, and they cannot prevent their ultimate disappearance.

In the case of the human individual, the “thing” in question is its very own self. This realization of existential vulnerability occurs in an organism that is impelled by its inner constituents to always preserve itself above all things and continue to be-here. This drive, traditionally called the conatus, is so intense that it programs the organism to do virtually anything that is required to stay alive. This “instinct for self-preservation” can be overcome but only with extreme difficulty. It amounts to a “catch-22” from nature: you MUST ALWAYS stay alive, but you DO NOT HAVE the wherewithal to do it. The Buddhists identified the illusory attempt to create that wherewithal as the root of all dissatisfaction: samsara, “chasing the wind.” And we all recognize the instinct to stay alive is what lurks behind all injustice, exploitation, political oppression, tyranny and enslavement. The oppressor threatens death or its equivalent and no one can resist it.

Community and Morality

The combination of the compulsive drive of the conatus in tandem with the awareness of emptiness existential non-independence ― accounts for the intense valences created from the earliest infancy between the individual human organism and the human community into which it is born. The vulnerability of being human generates a dependence on other human beings; and its inversion in exploitative oppression, particularly demonic. Human community is set in stone from the start. Survival for the infant is a gift received from others who provide what it cannot provide for itself. The content ― the “what”― of the social transaction is human existence, life. Human community is bathed in the warmth of family love, but the stock-in-trade is not just a warm feeling, it is life itself, survival ― being-here.

The individual’s experience of emptiness immediately elicits human community; and human community immediately brings a demand for equity to reign in the transactions by which all humans survive; for the vulnerability is universal. This is the origin and the significance of morality: morality is the identification of the attitudes and behavior necessary for peace, harmony and equity in human society united in the common pursuit of an elusive survival. Its corruption is our principal enemy. It has nothing to do with “obedience” to a god-person. Such a deflection was a fiction: a poetic way of bringing a sacred intensity to bear on social interaction. Morality is a natural corollary of emptiness; it is the social dimension of being-here for human beings.

Faith includes the recognition of the organic connection between universal emptiness and human compassion, mutual assistance and the protections of larger society ― justice ― which is our only defense against existential vulnerability. Faith is primordially expressed in the ac­know­ledgement and embrace of emptiness and a reaching out to others for understanding, help and stability.

Ancient primitive religion imagined that the vulnerability that remained after society had done all it could to protect itself and its members, was in the hands of some supra-human agency that wielded a controlling power over the events in the world of humans.   In most cases this power was imagined to be held by one or more invisible divine “persons” who were related to humankind rather like older siblings. The inquiry into universal religion identifies the energy driving this primitive imagery to be the same existential dependency that humankind faces today but, informed by science, no longer projects onto personal deities. Today, even religious people of all traditions have adjusted to the fact that there are no “divine persons” who control the factors by which humankind survives. The erstwhile claims of “Christian Science” have been muted if not totally silenced. Recourse to medical intervention for illness and the pursuit of political remedies for social problems are universal among all religious people. And those who are informed know quite well that it was the evolution of living matter that produced the intricate interconnections that keep our vast cosmos in balance.

This highlights the foundational role of faith. As used here, faith is the experience of metaphysical emptiness. It is not the experience of an invisible divine presence or entity. Faith is the interior perception of one’s own existential vulnerability coupled with the recognition that other human beings have the same experience, generating the same feelings that produce the same questions and preoccupations, needs, fears and hopes. Morality is born of that empathic insight. It gives rise to compassion and is at the root of the universally recognized moral obligation: “treat others as you want them to treat you.”

Internal moral insistence, called synderesis, is the basic sense of right and wrong. It impacts everyone connaturally. It is not unconscious, but at the same time it is not the conclusion of an explicit reasoning process. It is not suppressible. It is a corollary of existential dependency and as such it is universal.  Its primary mandate is justice and its empirical awaken­ing is in the spontaneous, irrepressible reaction to injustice.  Moral responsibility and existential dependency are corollaries. You can’t have one without the other.  Moral responsibility implies the shared experience of existential dependency as much as it is implied by it.

The origin of this correlation between existential dependency and the moral sense arises in the same ground as religion ― faith ― the spontaneous and connatural recognition that we are all existentially dependent. It is the universality of emptiness that generates compassion and the immediate awareness that I must treat others as I want to be treated. Those who dismiss this primordial insight always do so by denying their essential emptiness and live in a fantasy of their indestructibility.   We tend to associate it with the insufferable immaturity characteristic of adolescence, but a deeper look reveals that there are ideological fantasies that can provide the same assurances for the deluded at any stage of life. Some religions play that role either alone or in conjunction with an ethnic tribalism lost in the illusions of its own superiority.


Faith, we said, was a trusting existential dependency. Now why include trust in this foundational phenomenon of humankind’s presence in the world? Because in the first instance the recognition of existential dependency involves no fear whatsoever. No infant is born afraid or suspicious. The very idea is absurd. The newborn awakening to consciousness implicitly trusts what it is and where it has awakened. It has no worries at all. The human organism spontaneously trusts being-here and being human. The child doesn’t have to learn to trust; it is born with it. It is the very nature of the material energy of the components of the human body. Living matter is at home in the universe. It must learn to mistrust. Faith holds both its emptiness and its boundless trusting optimism in one undivided embrace. It is no more surprised or distressed by its emptiness than its hunger pangs, as it expects both will be answered and satisfied. It is natural and spontaneous. Trust is embedded in the very matter that our organisms are made of.

Trust should not be confused with an oblivious ignorance or reckless disregard of vulnerability. Without an awareness of vulnerability there is no trust. Trust is precisely the sense that vulnerability belongs here which implies that it trusts that its counterpart of support also is here.

Trust is not confined to infancy or childhood. Trust is the air we breathe always. We have not appreciated the extent to which our lives are dominated by it. It is so common, so necessary and so taken for granted that we have to make an effort to recall and remind ourselves how universal it is.

Consider: we trust the infallible process of fetal formation in the womb from zygote to birth; we trust the perfectly proportioned development of our organisms from infancy to adulthood; we trust all the internal functions of the body having to do with the processing of nourishment, waste, respiration, circulation of the blood, sleep. We never question them until they malfunction, and even then our medical interventions are generally dedicated to the elimination of obstacles to the body healing itself which we trust most of all.

Of course, we also trust the network of cosmic forces that sustains our solar system and we trust that our planet will be able to continue to supply the oxygen, weather, warmth and water we need to sustain ourselves. We trust the human community we live in. We trust our families and friends. And we trust strangers: co-workers, teachers, doctors, technicians, security personnel, public officials . . . the list is endless. All these fine-tuned interconnections, environmental and social, were created by eons of patient evolution.

After all this, to say we trust being-here seems like the most unoriginal and commonplace of statements. But of course we do. We are made of trust. It is a corollary of being empty. For, being empty as we are, if we did not trust, we would disintegrate.

Immanence and the “divinity” of Jesus

1,300 words

This is a reflection on the contemporary search among traditional Catholic theologians for language about Jesus’ “divinity” that is consistent with the implications of material evolution.

I put the word “divinity” in quotes because I believe that when “God” is understood as immanent it gives the word a new meaning with an imagery that is very different from what we are used to.  There is the old meaning of an all-powerful entity/person ― human-like but unlimited in reach and power, transcendent, spiritual and set apart from the rest of the material universe to which “he” is nevertheless present.  The new meaning based on immanence suggests the sustaining energy of universal existence, what some call a divine “Presence” that creatively suffuses everything that exists, a metaphysical cause that is materially indistinguishable from its finite effects.  Calling it LIFE projects an image that, to my mind, comes closest to the concept and evokes the dynamism responsible for the panoply of evolutionary effects that have filled the universe. I believe the key to a new way of expressing Jesus’ divinity is in a “new” way of expressing divinity itself ― as immanent. Once you take divine immanence seriously, things begin to fall into place.

[“Immanence” is the term traditionally used to describe “God’s” presence in the universe. Its usual expression has been to say that “God is everywhere.” We tend to think of that presence as if “God” were an entity like any other, separate but present to us like a tenant who rents a room in your house. But the deeper meaning of immanence as found in the work of Thomas Aquinas, is that “God” is present as the moment-to-moment sustaining source of the very existence of everything that exists. Aquinas’ theology of divine immanence has effectively been ignored in pastoral practice. For Thomas, the immanent “God” is present by “his” existential activation of all things here and now making them to be-here. “God” is being itself; Pure Act. All things exist by “borrowing” “God’s” very own existential dynamism and activating it as their own. It is not something that happened once in the past. It is a continuous operation that results in panentheism ― a condition where all things exist in God.]

Consider. In Thomistic terms, if “God” is the “act of existence” (the primary cause) that sustains, suffuses and is materially indistinguishable from all things as they are and have come to be (“things” = secondary causes which are both the agents and the products of evolution), then it’s a simple fact that “God” and the individual human being enjoy a “composite” relationship whose only discernible dissimilarity is that it is metaphysically structured, i.e., that it is only distinguishable conceptually as cause and effect. “God” and “creation” are not observably distinct either in composition or in activity. They are distinct only through our unique human ability to perceive and understand metaphysical cause and effect. (We unerringly perceive absolute metaphysical conditionality in ourselves, and infer an unconditioned metaphysical underpinning.)

The moral embrace of that metaphysical dependence, faith ― my conscious acquiescence to the co-presence of my source … my awareness that being-here is an exhaustive effect of “God’s” immanent primary causality (“exhaustive” = there is no other source) ― is reflected in my compassionate attitudes and behavior, which may be said to be more “godlike” the more completely each and every moment of my existence unfolds as a function of that relationship.

With such a way of looking at things ― a derivative of immanence ― not only is Jesus’ “divinity” intelligible, but so is all “divinity” among humankind, wherever faith is found, and however it was evoked in whatever community and at whatever time in the history of humankind. Gone is the problem of trying to account for the transmission of holiness/wholeness from Jesus to others, or from Christianity to other traditions, or back in time to include Judaism. We are all, Jesus no more or less than the rest of us human beings, all the immediate metaphysical effect of the suffusive presence of our immanent Primary Cause, and our “divinization” is all of the same type: moral appropriation and assimilation. It is by our moral surrender in faith causing a transformation in behavior and attitudes that we become more like “God.”

Metaphysical divinity is the same for all; we all have the same primary cause which is existentially activating us all as human beings (and only as human beings). If the immanent primary presence were “different,” we would be “different,” i.e., we would not be human. But the moral appropriation of that divinity in the surrender of faith and its diffusion through­out every aspect and every moment of our conscious communitarian lives, accounts for the different levels of the discernibility of divinity ― holiness/wholeness ― among us. Jesus, in our tradition, embodied the most complete fidelity to that “image of God” and the superlative quality of his trusting surrender is observable in his “obedience unto death,” even the dehumanizing death inflicted by the Roman thugs who ruled by torture and mutilation.

But please note: Jesus himself said that we would do even greater things than he did (Jn 14:12). How could he say that If he were indeed a “different kind of being” than we are? In the moral sphere everything is wide open to everybody. The depth, clarity and intensity of faith is as available to each of us as it was to Jesus, and the result of our fidelity to our reality as metaphysical effect is a closer likeness to the “divinity” that is our primary cause. The word for that is “divinization.” The Greeks called it theosis. I contend that that was the “divinity” that people experienced in Jesus. It was theosis divinization ― the human moral, attitudinal and behavioral expression of “divinity.”


Christians have never been shy about using the word “divinization.” Athanasius’ principal argument at the Council of Nicaea in 325 for acceptance of the term homoousios (which “defined” Jesus as the same kind of “God” as the Father) was that without it there was no way of guaranteeing divinization/theosis for us, and theosis was what it was all about. Constantine, the Roman Emperor, had his own reasons for promoting the homoousios, but the Greek bishops resonated with Athanasius’ rationale.

Fast forward to John of the Cross, a late mediaeval Spanish Carmelite mystic who wrote around 1580. For him, the language of divinization is the same, even though his metaphors are characteristic of his time. He imagined the “soul” to be the “bride” of “God.” His argument ― that people who love one another tend to become like one another ― was used to account for both the personality distortions that result from loving the wrong things, as well as the “transformation into God” of the soul who becomes his “bride.” Today, we might squirm at the imagery, but it was clearly his way of describing his experience of the surrender of faith. Faith divinizes by bringing light and mirror into sync with one another. Why should we think that Jesus was not as adept as any of us at the surrender of faith?

The entire Christian tradition, by falsely characterizing Jesus’ “divinity” as different from ours, also made Jesus’ humanity different from ours. If he was a “God-entity,” as we have falsely imagined him, faith would not have been demanded of him. How could he be a model for us? How could his message be relevant “for the nations?

Jesus was a human being. It was by embracing his humanity unreservedly ― by trusting “God” through death, even death on the cross of infamy ― surrendering without reserve to the immanent Presence that was his primary cause, that he “earned a name above every name,” and why “every knee bends” at the sound of that name . . . why even today, hearing what he said and did, people everywhere know what he was.


Spacetime in an Expanding Universe

This is a continuation of the post of Aug 19th on Transcendent Materialism; it was revised on Sept 1.  

2,500 words

The few short paragraphs quoted below are from an information website called The fact that space expands and advances simultaneously with matter is well known and can be found stated in many places, but it is expressed particularly well here. It parallels what I have been saying about time and suggests that matter and spacetime are not two separate and distinct “things” but rather that spacetime is a product of matter’s continuous emerging presence, precisely because matter’s core energy is transcendentally existential, i.e., that continuing to be-here from one moment to the next is a positive physical event generated by matter. Matter’s continuity in time is not a passive “non-happening,” a mere continuity; being-here is an active event produced by existential energy. Matter actively and autonomously perdures in existence and emanates spacetime creating a “place” for itself and a “now” where before there had been nothing.

The Big Bang did not occur as an explosion in the usual way one thinks about such things, despite what one might gather from its name. The universe did not expand into space, as space did not exist before the universe, according to NASA. Instead, it is better to think of the Big Bang as the simultaneous appearance of space everywhere in the universe. The universe has not expanded from any one spot since the Big Bang — rather, space itself has been stretching, and carrying matter with it. [1]

Please be aware of the metaphorical nature of that last sentence. Space does not “stretch” or “carry.” They are words intended to evoke the simultaneity between matter’s presence and spacetime. A different metaphor ― one suggested by transcendent materialism ― might use the word “exude.” As matter emerges into existence it can be said to exude spacetime as the cocoon that enwraps it, the vehicle (the “carriage”) it which it rides, the nimbus or aura that surrounds it like a cloud, the radiance that emanates from its creative action.

Since the universe by its definition encompasses all of space and time as we know it, NASA says it is beyond the model of the Big Bang to say what the universe is expanding into or what gave rise to the Big Bang. Al­though there are models that speculate about these questions, none of them have made realistically testable predictions as of yet.[2]

The gaps in knowledge referred to here, I believe, derive from the necessary limitations of physics. The sciences begin with existence as a given. They do not question it, therefore what it is flies under their radar. They do not understand autonomous emergent existence as a physical event and therefore it is not even considered as the source of spacetime. All they can do is observe the correlation ― the simultaneity ― they have no way of identifying the causality.

These descriptions are difficult for us to imagine because we have pre-formed images of reality stemming from our ancient dualist metaphysics that are incorrect; we considered being to be a creative “idea” and single act in the distant past but not a physical, material event occurring now in real time. Similarly, we cannot picture matter as producing spacetime because we think of matter as passive and inert; matter in the dualist worldview can’t create anything. With no physical “cause” of space we had to think of space as a pre-existing “region” (created by “God”?) and time as prior to and independent of matter’s duration ― an independent outside measurement of matter’s continuity ― rather than, in both cases, its products, its emanations.

We also tend to think of existence as a onetime thing accomplished in the distant past. We assimilated the “big bang” to the archaic notion of a “moment of creation” by a rational divine Craftsman ― a single occurrence that happened long ago, and that all subsequent motion is simply passive inert matter coasting on the kinetic energy imparted to it by the initial explosion. According to transcendent materialism, however, existence is in fact an ongoing, continually emerging series of physical events occuring in real time wherever matter is found, because matter is in reality an autonomous living energy that, far from being the result of, was itself responsible for, the big bang. “Creation,” the autonomous, physical, self-transcending self-extrusion of every particle of matter’s energy, is going on right now from moment to moment everywhere, wherever there is matter pressing its being-here forward into ― and thus creating ― the next moment, and sequential spacetime is the way we experience it.

The key to the new imagery is to accept that existence is a material act, a physical function of a material energy. Once we allow ourselves to understand matter as physical energy, and specifically existential energy, (meaning the positive and abundantly expanding force that overcomes nothingness), then it is not so difficult to understand that matter emits spacetime as the sweat of its labors, the vapor trail of its lift-off into nothingness.

There is no such thing as nothingness; but there is a conceptual clarity brought by the illustration. “Conquest over nothingness” is the metaphorical translation of the spontaneous human perception of the “positivity” of being-here. That existence is a positive force means that we know instinctively (connaturally) that none of us nor any of what we see around us has to be here. That remains true for us moment after moment. Nothing has to be-here and that implies that energy has to be expended moment after moment in order to make something be-here. Existential energy is activated continually and our human experience of matter enduring includes the spacetime that is its corona ― its emanation.

Another aspect of this physical/metaphysical position is the exclusively human perception of the supreme significance of the present moment. Humans understand connaturally that to be-here is radically limited to “now” and only now. Humans have a privileged position from which to observe the phenomenon precisely because they are themselves conscious observant matter. It is their own existential emergence in time that they know internally to be undeniable for they experience their own conscious presence moving forward in time. They know when they are-here and when they are not for they know what it feels like to be-here. They know that the past, no matter how recent, is no longer here, and that the future does not as yet exist. Existence is absolutely confined to the present moment. Despite the mathematical ratiocinations of some theoretical physicists,[3] people spontaneously dismiss any notion that existence is not confined to “now” or that “now” does not exist.

With regard to matter’s existential energy being inexhaustible which I claim is true even after all other energy gradients have been reduced to equilibrium (in agreement with the first law of thermodynamics), there is this additional corroborating information found in the same citation from

If the density of the universe exactly equals the critical density, then the geometry of the universe is “flat” with zero curvature like a sheet of paper, according to NASA. If so, the universe has no bounds and will expand forever, but the rate of expansion will gradually approach zero after an infinite amount of time. Recent measurements suggest that the universe is flat with only a 2 percent margin of error.[4]


In a recent article edited and reprinted by Aeon Magazine entitled “No Absolute Time,”[5] the relativity of time (i.e., that time is perceived differently at different “places” in the universe), elaborated mathematically by Einstein’s theory in 1905 and anticipated in more general terms in the 18th century by David Hume, would be supported by the claim of transcendent materialism that matter’s very sequential presence, which we humans experience as time, is a result of a series of imperceptibly discrete physical events. As a physical event initiated by each particle of matter, the continuous material emergence of existence itself makes temporal sequence relative to each particle’s location, direction and velocity. Time will appear differently to observers depending on where ― in which portion of matter and under what conditions ― emergence into existence is occurring. This consistency with current scientific thinking serves as a corroboration of the metaphysical claims of transcendent materialism. Matter is not passive, dead and inert; it is an inexhaustible “living” existential energy.[6]

The moment of creation

These reflections on the nature and action of matter’s energy, lift a veil on the reality we experience everyday. The humdrum, boring business of “passing time” when supposedly nothing is happening, actually turns out to be our distracted attendance at the very moment of creation. “Now” is the “place” where existence is actuating itself in all the things with which we live, move and have our being. It reveals that creation was not something accomplished at some point in the distant past, but is an ongoing event occurring before our eyes and experienced directly by us as we emerge into physical existence now. Time “passing” is our experience of the continuous extrusion of existence by matter’s autonomous transcendent energy and that includes the matter of our own biological organisms.

This is extremely significant for us. That our own lowly flesh, so shamefully denigrated and merilessly flayed over millennia by the worshippers of an arrogant disdainful imaginary “spirit,” should now be finally recognized as the autonomous endless engine of LIFE and the place where LIFE enters the world, opens the doors to a self-apprecia­tion that was our birthright but which our Western mindset has ever denied us. Now we understand what our bodies have been trying to tell us with their hunger to be-here and what we have suppressed by embracing the Platonic paradigm. We realize this treasure we carry in vessels of clay is the very energy of LIFE itself. It invites us to a contemplative self-embrace that, from the moment it is experienced, reverberates throughout our organism in a realization that is self-explanatory and self-confirm­ing. Once we pass through that door, we are not likely to return to a world where our bodies are treated as dead and putrifying, contaminating everything around them. We know we are home because now we know what being home feels like … .

We belong here with our material siblings spawned from the earth. We have no need to go any­where else or do anything our bodies were not made for; for in experiencing the continuity of time our very bodies, made of matter, are participating in the welling up and overflow of LIFE. The stillness of “now,” so cherished by contemplatives, reflects matter’s temporary achievement of absolute existential equilibrium in the present moment dissipating its energy by filling the void of nothingness. Suffused with the security and serenity of “now” our organism’s innate creativity can emerge naked and unafraid, exploring a vulnerability it otherwise could not afford to leave unprotected. The tranquility of a “now” understood as the place where being-here emerges in the freshness and power of the first instant, is like a “worm hole” to another dimension of reality, one that intersects our horizontal evolution vertically like a needle injecting LIFE. It is the invisible engine throbbing endlessly at the core of matter. When we understand what matter is, we realize that we have been walking on a field with a treasure buried in it. (These images are all metaphors trying to describe a subjective realization, they do not refer to the metaphysical structure of matter’s energy.)

Our sense of the sacred which we had mistakenly identified exclusively with the narratives of our ancient pre-scientific religious tradition, is not demolished by the scientific discovery that those stories were mythic, but is rather enhanced, intensified and grounded more firmly. Science as interpreted by a cosmo-ontology (metaphysics based on transcendent materialism), pictures a universe made of living material energy, autonomously evolving ever new forms of itself: living organisms, newly organized and equipped to pursue matter’s obsessive embrace of being-here.

Physics examines what is-here and analyzes how it is internally interrelated. Metaphysics, on the other hand, interprets what being-here means to us. In acknowledging the need to pursue that task as a central and absolute condition of our full sanity, metaphysics establishes that for humans self-embrace necessarily has a cognitive dimension, for our organisms are suffused with cognition. There is no perception, experience, thought or action that is not simultaneously a product of mind. We are material organisms that are both conscious and self-con­scious.

We cannot be integrally human if we do not understand that our conscious/self-con­scious biological organisms are the emergent forms of material energy evolving through time. We are a function of being-here, and everything we are is conditioned by it. Where it goes we go. Its destiny is ours. Every particle of transcendent matter that comprises us has been here at least since the big bang 13.7 billion years ago, and will be-here endlessly. As we embrace what we are in the “now” that only we can understand, we realize that the endlessness that characterizes material existence is ours, for we are THAT. Being-here-now anticipates all the nows that await us. In embracing it ― in understanding that we are home now ― we realize that we will always be home.


[1] ( is an “info-entertainment” project of Futureplc [], a global multi-platform media company.)

[2] Ibid

[3] Physicist Carlo Rovelli in his 2017 book The Order of Time has a chapter entitled “The End of the Present” (p.38 ff.) in which he makes the extraordinary claim that “Not only is there no single time for different places — there is not even a single time for any particular place.” (p.40)

As far as the first part is concerned he acknowledges on p.43: “The notion of ‘the present’ refers to things that are close to us, not to anything that is far away. Our ‘present’ does not extend throughout the universe. It is like a bubble around us.” That is exactly what is meant by the relativity of time explained in the Aeon article cited above. I agree with it completely. The transcendent materialism that I espouse, in fact, provides a metaphysics that supports and explains it.

However, with regard to the second part of his claim that there is no “present” even locally, I would have to say, frankly, his presentation is incoherent. His “proof” is a set of unconnected statements that have no justification beyond the arbitrary diagrams he himself has created to explain them. One might get the impression that Rovelli is indulging in the trendy pastime of debunking the common intuitions of humankind based on nothing but his status as a “scientist” and feels no responsibility to make himself intelligible.

Rovelli doesn’t even claim to have proven his thesis. He acknowledges that the only solid conclusion he can draw is: “A common present does not exist.” (pp.50, 55) I agree, and I have stated that repeatedly. That our perception of time is relative to its various local iterations is the key take-away in all this. His final words sum it up: “Is not what ‘exists’ precisely what is here ‘in the present’ “? (p.55) If the answer to his question is “yes,” then to insist that “there is no present” would be to declare that there is no existence emerging from moment to moment ― that there is nothing here.

[4] Op.cit. “” see fn.1


[6] See fn.3 above


Transcendent Materialism: notes on terminology, methodology, physics and metaphysics

These are unconnected notes. They are the written-out versions of spontaneous reflective probings. Some were anticipated in my 2010 book The Mystery of Matter. They are not meant to be definitive, thorough or systematically consistent with one another. I wanted to float some new ideas past discerning and critical readers who might possibly be stimulated by the exploratory nature of these ruminations to contribute some thoughts of their own. The ultimate intent is to generate a plausible world­view that will integrate science and the human needs that until relatively recently had been met by a religion that is increasingly considered rationally discredited. 

6,400 words


Transcendent Materialism, it should be emphasized at the outset, is materialism. The word “transcendent” qualifies matter; it does not imply bypassing, going beyond or adding anything internally or externally to matter. That matter is “transcendent” means simply that matter has, as an intrinsic property, the potential to exist in ever new forms through internal reconfigurations accomplished autonomously and serially in time. In effect, the term announces the central role of evolution in establishing the character of reality, and it asserts that whatever form matter assumes, it will still be all and only matter.

That means reality is homogeneous. Transcendent Materialism is a monism. It proposes that there is no other “substance” anywhere. Reality ― all of reality ― is comprised of only one “kind of thing,” matter. Matter and existence are one and the same thing. Anything that exists ― anything and everything, cause or effect ― is made of matter.

That needs to be said clearly because word “matter” comes to us with heavy historical baggage: for almost two thousand years it was universally used in the West in a dualist metaphysical worldview as the counterpart to a “second substance” called “spirit.” Because of that background, many people assume that matter refers only to its former truncated role in that binary system ― as the dead, passive, inert, unconscious, composed and mutable partner to spirit. Spirit, the “second” substance, was believed to be alive, unchanging, simple, uncomposed and either actively rational as a mind or, as an idea/essence, the product of a mind, therefore inherently teleological. Spirit implied rationality and gave purpose to a directionless matter.

Transcendent Materialism holds there is no such “second substance;” there is no spirit. Whatever qualities, dimensions, abilities, properties, energies, and destiny there are in the universe that were once explained as the products of “spirit” are, in fact, functions of matter. Mind, once assumed to be itself spirit and the generator of ideas with purpose, is a product and derivative of matter. Hence, the erstwhile a priori claim that purpose characterizes all of reality even the forms in which matter existed before the evolutionary emergence of mind, can no longer be sustained. The existence of purpose in any phenomenon, or the totality of phenomena, must be proven and its provenance explained. Until proven otherwise, it is assumed that matter has no purpose beyond being-here as itself.

Because of that and in order to avoid falling back into dualist assumptions, it would be better to use a term other than “matter” altogether. I have chosen to refer to the single substance that comprises reality as “matter’s energy” or “material energy.” Those terms are consistent with the most recent discoveries of physics. They not only reflect the current state of scientific thinking, but the inclusion of the term “energy” immediately precludes assuming the passivity, inertness and unconsciousness associated with the term “matter.”

Saying it that way, however, is not meant to add any property to the most primitive forms of matter that, in fact, are not observable. It is only meant to prevent the exclusion of a potential whose presence is suggested by the later emergence of transcendent features. Besides, the observability available at any given point in time is not an absolute determinant of presence, as the instruments that enhance the reach of perception continue to expand. Future observers may actually “see” what is now only conjectured. The only point is to deny the traditional assumptions that prejudice matter’s energy.

But the word “matter” is shorter and simpler. Therefore I often use “matter” without qualification; but unless it is clearly indicated that it is the old dualist version that is meant, it should be understood as “material energy.”

However, matter is, in fact, all and only energy. It is misleading to say “matter and energy are convertible” as if they were two distinct things. That phrase rather refers to two phenomenal forms in which energy appears to our sensory apparatus. Everything in the universe is some form of energy. The denseness and impassibility we are accustomed to associate with the word “matter” is a misleading inheritance from pre-scientific times that skews the imagery and devalues the use of the word. There is a temptation stemming from our idealist-dualist past to conflate energy with “spirit” and give “matter” the meaning it had in that pre-scientific system. This is entirely wrong. Energy is nothing but material and is appropriately classified as matter.   “Matter’s energy” and “material energy” add modifiers that are necessary to prevent matter and energy from sliding back into our age-old substance dualism.



Since matter is all there is, it equates to existence. Existence is self-explanatory. That means, among other things, that there is no outside explanation for existence. We all know what existence means because, being matter, we exist. We know it “from the inside” as it were. Unfortunately the only way we can articulate our understanding conceptually is to contrast being with non-being, as if each were a “thing” or a state. But they have conceptual reality only.

There is no such thing as “non-being.” Explanations that have recourse to “non-being,” “nothing,” “nothingness” etc., as part of their apparent cogency are metaphorical and illustrative only. They effectively reveal existence to be a self-explanatory self-grounded dynamism not needing any further explanation. Traditional propositions used in metaphysics as points of departure like “Why is there something rather than nothing,” are meaningless except as illustrations. For the question assumes that we have an authentic knowledge of some aboriginal primordial “state” or condition called “nothing,” against which existence reveals its supersedence derivatively. That is utterly absurd. Logically speaking “nothing” cannot be known because there is nothing to know. Nothing does not exist. Non-being is a fabricated concept derived from being, not the other way around. The use of the idea of non-being derives from and emphasizes the supreme importance of being-here for us, and helps us to realize what existence is. We know existence directly and without need of any further explanation or justification. We cannot define existence in terms other than itself, and we cannot justify our claim to know it. This is ground zero.

But we have to be careful. The words existence, being and even being here are abstractions ― generalizations of our experience of real existing things. The words are not pictures of any “thing.” This denies the ancient and mediaeval conviction that being is an entity called “God” based on the Platonic belief that “ideas” or concepts were stand-alone substantial realities. The various forms of material energy that are-here (all the things and forces it comprises in the real world) actually exist. But existence is not something apart from the concrescences (knots) of material energy ― things ― that are present-in-the-world. Existence is a conceptual generalization that gathers and represents all the concrete experiences we have of actually existing things. The generalization is only as accurate as the concrete experiences it gathers. Non-being, or nothing, however, is even further removed from reality because it is not a generalization of anything. There is no “nothing” anywhere. It is a pure conceptual fantasy generated out of our immediate perception of the positive energy of matter: matter is an energy to be-here materially which we know and understand connaturally.

If something exists, it is material, and matter, for its part, bears the energy of existence as an intrinsic property and does not require the presence of anything other than itself in order to exist. Matter, in other words, is not a “principle of being” as it is in Aristotle’s system, requiring the presence of “form” (essence/idea/spirit) as a second principle in order to achieve reality. Existence is simply material energy; and matter is existential energy.  It’s clear with these premises that the reason, source and explanation of existence must be found within existence itself, and that source and explanation must itself be material energy. Matter, therefore, in some way that still remains to be fully explored and articulated, must be said to be the source of its own existence. Whatever “God” there is ― defining “God” as the source, ground and reason for the universe ― is constituted of material energy.

Prescinding from the form that matter may have assumed at any point in its trajectory through time, it has to be said that because the reason for matter is to be found within itself, matter always existed and will always exist. Since the only way that existence is, is material, and since all matter exists in time, we will therefore speak of matter/existence as being endless … but not eternal. Endless is the form that material existence takes in time; eternal, meaning something that simply exists without reference to time, is meaningless. It is an empty conceptual abstraction with no empirical ground; it is an idea that draws its static unchanging character from the nature of the human process of conceptualization, not from reality.  I use the word being-here instead of being for the same reason. Being-here connotes our active, time-governed presence-in-the-material-world, whereas being as it has come to us from the obsolete dualist worldview, imagines that our ideas of reality ― the products of human mental processes ― are themselves eternal unchangeable realities that stand on their own and add essential notes of information about the universe that would not be available otherwise. I contend this is fantasy; it is the reification of our imaginings. Being, like being-here, if it continues to be used, can only be a generalization ― a word / concept that attempts to depict the common element in all the experiences we have of things that actually are-here insofar as they are matter’s energy being-here, creating space and time. The same is true mutatis mutandi of all concepts. They are generalizations of the content of individual experiences.



That matter is endless is a corollary of its intrinsic temporality. No matter exists outside of time and there is no time where there is no matter, i.e., where nothing exists. Where there is existence there is time because existence is only matter’s energy. Physicists lately have been trying to explain time as a function of entropy. There is nothing wrong with that, except it is not the ultimate explanation. They are thinking physically and not metaphysically. Physics begins with the given universe already being-here and explains its phenomena in terms of cause and effect within what is already given ― physical phenomena are internally self-consistent. Physics does not question existence itself. Entropy is a correlate of time, and so time can be explained as a function of entropy. But because they are exact correlates, entropy can also be explained as a function of time. Physicists choose the former because time for them is a mental concept, while entropy is a physical phenomenon and that gives it a causal priority over time. Cosmo-ontologists (materialist metaphysicians), in contrast, because of their focus on existential energy (being-here) as the ground and explanation of all things, are able to discern the material existential character of time. Time is precisely the intrinsic condition of matter’s being-here because matter’s energy is a material presence-that-moves-beyond-itself-and-perdures-materially and time is the way we material humans experience that perdurance. It is the primordial manifestation of matter’s transcendence and the ground of evolution. Matter moves beyond its current configuration but it always remains matter. Time is the very way that matter is-here. To-be-here, in other words, is to be in a material process of existential conquest ― it is to exist, develop and perdure by expanding materially: i.e., proceeding forward from being-here in this particular configuration moving into where it is not and re-configuring itself in the process. Evolutionary process is not something that happens to matter’s energy as if from the outside or ex post factum. The very energy of matter’s presence is a forward motion into existentially unconquered territory ― being displacing non-being now ― moment after moment after moment.

Let me offer a metaphorical picture to explain what I mean. Think of matter, which is existence, as if it were a spotlight. Where there is matter there is existence or light, where there is no matter there is nothingness or darkness. Matter’s existential energy lights up darkness only in this “spot” we call now; it makes something to be-here where there was no “here.” To be here is what it is because it energetically overcomes and displaces not-being-here. Its energy is expansive: it moves into the darkness where it was not.

(I emphasize the metaphorical nature of this fantasy. It is not a “picture” of reality; it is offered only to illustrate the dynamism involved. There is no such thing as “non-being” or “nothingness;” and being-here is not a light. They are conceptual/verbal concoctions ― fantasy. What is real is the physical nature of existence: being-here is a material phenomenon, a time-creating self-transcending energy that is a property of matter, present, operative and observable only in the actual forms, individual and collective, that matter has assumed.)

Perhaps a better illustration is the very expansion of the universe itself, which is quite real. We have a hard time imagining the reality occurring here, because we tend to imagine “space” as pre-existing the things that fill it so we think of the universe of material energy expanding into empty space. That is not what’s happening at all. The reality is that “space” is a function of matter’s conquest of what-is-not-there; space is created (out of “nothing”) by the expansion. What do things look like at the very edge of the expansion of the universe where the things that are-here meet what-is-not-here? Do you have a hard time imagining that? So do I. We can’t imagine it because we cannot think non-being. We know there has to be such a “place,” though there is no “place” until the event ― being-here as an active conquest ― occurs now. In that ethereal “location” ― now ― where being-here creates “space,” you can intuit that it is also creating time. Well, that is precisely what’s happening everywhere, moment after moment. Both space and time are the continuous products of transcendent material energy insisting on being-here moment after moment and creating space and time as material by-products.

The “arrow of time” goes in only one direction. That is not difficult to understand for cosmo-ontology where the point of view is being-here and being-here can only continue to be-here by moving into some “place” where it was not (creating space-time as it does so). It must move from the ground it has conquered and holds as presence, onto new ground where nothing has been present before. That can only be one direction ― from this now to a now that has never been, from a “place” where it exists into what-is-no-place. Once the question is framed in terms of existence, regardless of the inability to imagine it, the thought of being-here moving to some place where it has already been is absurd. It’s very dynamism is creative: it is to move to where it was not, to overcome “non-being,” to expand, to create “space.”

It is a conundrum for physics because physics takes existence, presence, as given. All its explorations occur after that definitive conquest. That’s why it misses the forward energy of time. There is nothing in physical reality that demands that time’s arrow must only go forward. Hence physicists try to explain time’s direction and look for a physical cause. Cosmo-ontologists (materialist meta­­physicians), on the other hand, who recognize matter’s existential energy as the fundamental material dynamism giving rise to our experience of time, are not surprised to observe that matter’s energy produces a one-directional trail pushing being into non-being, and in no other way.

Here’s an analogy. Imagine material energy, being-here, and the metaphysics that describe it as a train in motion. The train is time moving in one direction because matter is driven to be-here moment after moment. Then, imagine the physical forms that matter’s energy has assumed and the physics that studies them as passengers or cargo on that train. The train is going in only one direction, but the passengers are free to move forward and backward. Physics, since it does not study the motion of the train itself (matter insofar as it creates space-time), sees the train as a static environment. Physicists can only observe and measure the motion of the entities in it (which are observed moving forward relative to the ground). They can clearly imagine the possibility of items moving toward the rear of the train, and the forward motion remains a mystery or is attributed to time’s correlate, entropy, because they do not look at being-here as a physical dynamism, they take it for granted. Entropy is conjectured as a cause when actually it is an effect of time’s direction.  Entropy measures and describes sequence in terms of the irreversible dissipation of energy between existing material things, whereas time is the human experience of the sequential motion created by matter’s energy existence ― expanding its presence.

An added confirmation of this way of looking at time is that is supports and helps explain the theory of the relativity of spacetime as proposed by Einstein.  Material energy, in the form that it has assumed in any particular place in the universe, is concrete and specific and our experience of its existential process (“moving” from being into non-being) is empirically generated.  We call it time.  Time is a human experience produced by a physical event.  Time is not an innate idea, an eternal background reality, or an a priori form of sensibility.  Both space and time are concretely engendered by this specific matter which we experience differently from other matter.  There is no anticipated simultaneity or pre-existing reality for either space or time, time is relative.


energy and entropy

All energy is a function of disequilibrium. The achievement of total equilibrium equates to the complete absence of energy. Matter’s existential energy is generated by the gradient difference between being-here-now and the nothingness it must confront and vanquish if its particular concrescence ― knot ― of material energy (this “thing”) is to continue to be-here in the following moments. Existential disequilibrium is created when the positive expansiveness of matter’s energy meets what-is-not-here; equilibrium is restored when matter’s existential energy pours itself into it, as it were, as into an empty receptacle, filling it full of existence, replacing non-being with being. (Please be aware of the metaphorical nature of that description. There is no “pouring” or “filling.”) Equilibrium is achieved in the triumphantly existent now and the energy of matter momentarily disappears in a point of existential repose (now) only to be immediately regenerated in the next moment by the disequilibrium created by the looming precipice of nothingness into which matter now peers.

Entropy is a concept proper to thermodynamics that attempts to observe, describe and measure the dissipation of energy which accompanies the reduction of disequilibrium. The energy of existence itself has never been the focus of entropic analysis and interpretation because being-here in the Platonic paradigm of “spirit/idea” was thought of as a metaphysical reality but not a physical function. Understanding being-here as a physical function proper to matter transforms metaphysics from an analysis and interpretation of ideas into cosmo-ontology, the “prequel,” the missing first chapter in the narrative of physics. It provides a wider context for the interpretation of physical concepts like entropy allowing them to be seen in a new light that reveals relationships that had perhaps been missed or unavoidably inverted. Our analysis of time was one example of that inversion affecting entropy that was due precisely to the failure to understand existence itself as a material (physical) energy.

Cosmo-ontology (the metaphysics of existence-as-matter) predicts that the ever increasing entropy created by the dissipation of energy in the universe can never reach 100% because even in a state of “heat death” predicted by the theoretical physicists ― where every possible form of disequilibrium has been eliminated ― there will still be the existential energy of endless matter superseding “non-being” and creating space-time. The measurable energy of the universe may “flat line” but the timeline of inactive matter will continue endlessly, confirming the prediction of the first law of thermodynamics that matter’s energy is neither created nor destroyed.



Metaphysics (I offer “cosmo-ontology” as a new label for this discipline) begins with being-here as that particular aspect of all phenomena that is especially significant to human beings. And it is significant not only because we humans ― like all living organisms ― are selfishly driven to stay alive and therefore obsessive about being-here, but because we are uniquely convinced of the utter gratuity of it all. None of it has to be here. How do we know that? Frankly we have no idea how we know that. All we know is that we do, and we express our intuitive conviction by asking a question that for all its irrationality we all find compelling: “why is there something rather than nothing”? It never spontaneously occurs to us that being-here has to be-here … that there is no such thing as nothing and there never was … and that nothing will never ever exist, while matter’s energy must exist endlessly.

There is a profound circularity operating here. Since matter’s energy must be-here, and since the human organism, including its sensory and neurological systems responsible for its conscious intelligence, is entirely made of matter’s energy, it should come as no surprise that every aspect of the human organism is determined ― absolutely driven ― by the forward energy of being-here. We ARE, like all matter, the energy of being-here pushing its spotlight into the darkness of non-being. The fact that we know there is no such thing as “non-being” doesn’t stop us from speaking in those terms because they somehow express exactly our groundless connatural intuition into the positive, abundant and expansive character of being-here. When all the dross and symbolic forms of expression are burned off, we are left with this: human conscious intelligence intuits the positive character of being-here and cannot explain why it is absolutely convinced of it. It will always remain a marvel to us that there is something rather than nothing. I believe that this insuperable circularity is simply the predictable outcome of our own materiality. We ourselves are constructed of matter’s existential energy. Our being-here is not something added to our persons, something we have and can lose (which is the way we normally think). Being here materially is what we ARE. We have always been here and will always be here although not in the current human form or with the “self” we now enjoy. We are constructed of matter ― the very energy to be-here which has to be-here. It is not possible for any part of our organism not to reverberate with being-here as a connatural phenomenon wherever we encounter it, in ourselves or in any other form that material energy has taken … including the totality.

Metaphysics (cosmo-ontology), seen in this light, is the exploration of the implications of our material identity, and the possibilities and consequences of its denial. Since we humans are matter’s existential energy with a unique capability for self-embrace ― a conscious self-appropriation that goes far beyond what we see in other forms of living organisms on earth ― understanding accurately what being-here means for us is of paramount importance. It is not an optional pursuit, or entertaining exercise where the results are unimportant in comparison to the delight of the inquiry. How we understand what we are doing here, based on first understanding what being-here really is, will determine our destiny as a species, and perhaps even the destiny of all the other living species who emerged from the earth with us. Metaphysics, in this scheme of things, is not a dispassionate inquiry. It is a highly charged self-interested pursuit of the truth about being-here. Acknowledging our inescapably subjective investment in this science suggests that something similar is probably functioning beneath the surface of claimed objectivity in every science and pursuit of humankind. We are made of matter’s existential energy and being here is not only what we do, it is what we are.

There are some who will point to this subjective investment as a liability. They say it skews the inquiry fatally by placing an irresistible existential pressure on the students of the question to find answers that satisfy human aspirations and quell human fears.

Humans are able to question the meaning of being-here precisely because, alone among all other forms of living matter that have emerged from the earth, humans know they will die. Being-here, besides being the source of constant preoccupation, also becomes an intellectual obsession. The joyful pursuit of securing the means necessary for being-here is fatally enervated by the know­ledge that ultimately it is all for naught. The instinct to embrace what we are with gratitude, joy and generous creativity is not only potentially crippled by the awareness of death, but it can come to be seen as an unnecessarily cruel deception casting a pall of despair and bitterness over life. We tend to attribute social pathology and our interminable slaughter of one another to this flaw in the human species … and indeed, some in their hopelessness, have declared human life a pointless burden and respond with a selfishness that increases everyone’s suffering confirming the attribution.

But there is no necessary connection between the subjective instinct to be-here and distortion of the truth. It is just as possible that the desire to embrace life with joy will drive an inquiry past the dangerous shallows created by death and into deeper regions where navigation is open and endless. I believe that the intense motivation that may drive the metaphysician can be a source of dedication to honest and careful thinking, thorough inquiry and the disciplined exploration of implications.

Because cosmo-ontology is a materialist metaphysics it will work closely with physics which also deals exclusively with matter. But the focus on existence is what distinguishes the two and necessitates metaphysics. The claim of some logical positivists that science alone, especially physics, is sufficient for establishing origins, and that metaphysics is an exercise in fantasy is wrong, because physics does not question existence. Taking existence for granted is myopic to an extreme degree for the enquiring human being who is necessarily and uncontrollably interested in being-here. Both tools, science and philosophy, are needed to complete this pursuit. And indeed in the system offered here, the final identification of matter with the very energy of existence itself, is determinative in establishing a clear direction for human endeavor and aspiration that differs markedly from earlier directions that have been deemed failures and abandoned. A global humankind, cast adrift from its various traditional moorings by a science that was unavoidably less than holistic, is well served by a discipline that plumbs the significance of being-here as science has observed and measured it. Science provides the data, philosophy, specifically metaphysics, questions the data looking for an existential interpretation significant for humankind. And it does so because the question of existence, far from being irrelevant, corresponds to the most insistent instincts in the human species ― that derive from what we are: matter’s living, existential energy.



Conatus denotes the embedded instinct for self-preservation that is the observed characteristic of every known living animal organism on the face of the earth, and is projected onto plants and fungi as well. Because it is characteristic of every form of living matter regardless of diversity, difference in complexity and location on the timeline of evolutionary emergence, it is reasonably retropolated to also characterize non-living matter and, in my scheme of things, would explain the undeniable evidence of transcendent emergence before the dawn of observable life. It is another, and almost predictable expression of matter’s energy to be-here. It would hardly seem reasonable to claim what I do about the “nature” of material energy as an existential conquest and expansion if something akin to the conatus did not exist in proportionate measure in all of matter’s energy commensurate with the degree of evolutionary complexity it enjoyed. The fact that it is such a prominent, undeniable and universal feature of the biological organisms that have emerged from the earth, confirms the existential characterization of matter that I have been offering in these ruminations.

As a side note, the universality of the conatus has not stimulated an enquiry into its significance because science, even the biological sciences where the uniformity of the conatus in all the millions of species studied is the elephant in the room, do not relate to existence. So the relevance of the conatus was missed altogether. I believe this is a clear confirmation of the distinction between metaphysics and the sciences, especially physics. Existence is bracketed by the limited focus of scientific knowledge and the understanding of what it means to be here for which we all hunger is simply ignored. It is another item on the list that demands a holistic integration of the disciplines that study our world.

Once the biological conatus is plausibly considered as existing in proportionate degrees in all the forms of matter even those prior to the emergence of life, it is reasonable to suggest that the progressive integration and complexification of material energy clearly on display in the elegant table of the elements and the accumulating development of complex molecules are evidence of a proto-evolu­tion that is a precursor of the behavior of biological life. Thus I feel it is appropriate to speak of matter as a living energy at all levels of its development, with the caveat, of course that this characterization be understood analogically, i.e., proportionate to the level of autonomy achieved by evolution and accurately observed and measured by science. Use of the term living is not meant to offer any additional information to what science provides about the behavior of the various forms of inanimate matter. The sole purpose for employing this counter-intuitive description is to establish a presumption for the presence of a potentiality present in minimally perceptible form ― perhaps only at the quantum level ― and could easily be missed by the scientist who was prejudicially convinced of its impossibility. Just knowing that matter is a living dynamism opens the observer to the possibility of actually seeing evidence of it.



We humans interface with the rest of the material universe through self-conscious thought. Thinking refers to the practice of making mental pictures of our presence-in-the-world in order to facilitate our survival as biological organisms. It is a function of the conatus ― a direct derivative of our instinct for self-preservation. Accuracy of thought is important if we are to survive, and so we attempt to include as much detail and fidelity to time, process and interaction among entities as possible. Thought or thinking is the process of making pictures, and the pro­ducts ― thoughts ― fall into various categories depending on content, origination and their applicability to the survival interests of the organism. The two principal categories in my system are knowledge and understanding.

Knowledge in my lexicon refers to a thought product that is a picture derived from an experience that at the conscious level does not relate directly and proximately to the needs of the conatus. Knowledge is characterized by an affectivity that has been called “objective” or disinterested, even though in most cases it is not. The organism may be subconsciously aware that the objects of thought in these cases have an impact on the “self” but it operates in background mode and the conscious sense is that the organism is simply “looking at what’s there.” These “cerebral” or “rational” mental pictures comprise the bulk of the thought process, and they are quite intentionally cultivated by the sciences that condition the validity their conclusions on the objectivity of knowledge.

I use understanding in contrast to knowledge to denote a thought product that is a mental picture that originated with the activation of the conatus. It is often called subjective, instinctive, reactive and self-interested. With understanding, the somatic dimension is front and center. This results in an awareness that includes the destiny of the self to one degree or another, a mental state consciously aware of the profound survival connection between the self and the object of thought and awareness. I call this resulting mental state a realization because the object of thought is seen to be existentially relevant i.e., it has a direct bearing the knower’s own being-here and it brings an affective sense of conviction that is particularly intense.Knowing” the force of gravity is one thing, seeing a tree fall on your car pushing the roof to the floorboards gives you a new “understanding” that makes you “realize” what gravity “really” is.

Understanding, like all thought, regardless of the intensity of self-interest involved is totally dependent on observation, and observation is totally dependent on the sensory and neurological apparatus of the biological human organism. The ability, therefore, to form mental pictures of one’s presence-in-the-world, whatever qualities it may generate that appear to transcend materiality, is grounded in the matter of the human body. All concepts ― human pictures of reality ― are totally derived from and dependent upon matter. The ability to imagine something that is not there, or to conclude, for whatever reason, that some entity ― even myself ― might become other than it appears at a given point in time does not constitute a transcendence over matter. The same is true of the generalizations that we call concepts. They are all a work of the imagination. Imagination does not go beyond the ability to isolate and reconfigure the elements of empirical phenomena pictured in space and/or time for the purposes of staying alive. It is as sensory and material an operation as any that humans perform.

No matter how intense the realization, and despite its accompanying sense of conviction, all human thought is a work of the imagination. Concepts are representations of material phenomena couched in the sensory images of experience in order to facilitate our interaction-in-time with the universe of matter. There is nothing infallible or eternal about them. Even the sense impressions, immediate as they were once thought to be, in fact operate integrally in the self-interested, self-preserving dynamism of thought and are vulnerable to the re-arrang­ing which constitutes it. In fact it is difficult to achieve a detachment of the sense impressions from the self-interested thrust of human thought without the use of outside tools, like laboratory procedures and double-blind studies, specifically designed to suppress that influence and achieve accuracy.

In every instance what is occurring is a material interaction and survival is its ultimate focus.



Self embrace is the goal and destiny of human life. This apparently solipsist conclusion corresponds to the tautological circularity that our enquiry has uncovered in our universe made of living matter. Material energy which is the constituent reality of all things bears ultimate reference to itself alone. Matter’s existential energy, exists only to exist; it is-here only to be-here. It doesn’t exist in order to become something else, go somewhere else or do something that it is not currently doing or, or that it could not, in the near or distant future, evolve out of its own components. Things are-here for only one reason: to be-here. Everything we have examined confirms this conclusion. Matter’s energy is totally focused on its own abundant expansion into all the “places” it is not. Matter’s existential energy is the living embodiment of creativity: the conquest of non-being by being. It is not an energy that matter has, it is an energy that matter is. To be-here is to be matter; to be matter is to be the energy of expansive, overabundant, endlessly conquering existence.

We’ve seen how this plays itself out in area after area of our inquiry: the irrepressible conatus, the creation of an ever expanding space-time, the evolution of pre-living forms of matter, biological evolution, human reflexive consciousness as a function of being-here featuring the inability to think or imagine or want anything but being-here, the insuppressible perception that being-here, besides being the ultimate desideratum of the human organism, is a positive, gratuitous, and altogether marvelous phenomenon, and appropriately considered the object of wonder and gratitude. The instances are multiple and consistent in this regard. When we understand the transcendence of matter, we realize what we are. In human terms that translates into creative generosity.

We could take a moral turn at this point and, using Buddhist and Christian models of personal growth and maturity, try to show how the inversion of values triggered by an incorrect interpretation of the urgings of the conatus accounts for the classic spiritual pathologies, individual and social, on which both traditions concur. Specifically, the almost unavoidable deflection of the energy of the conatus from the survival and enhancement of the totality of matter in the universe to the selfish aggrandizement and pleasuring of the individual human organism in isolation has been identified as the paradigm of “the corrupt human condition” ― selfishness. Similarly, we could show how the goals and even the practices of personal transformation in each tradition which are designed to counter selfishness are in general agreement with one another and correlate closely with the supreme value of existence-in-the-present-moment as the concrete form in which being here authentically occurs, and whose embrace simultaneously establishes a relationship of oneness with the entire universe of living matter. Oneness with the totality, the mystics’ quest, is achieved by appropriating (realizing) one’s physical / metaphysical homogeneity with all things. We are all made of the same clay. The result is a clear vision of the supreme achievement for the individual-in-community of a loving and grateful understanding of one’s “self” as a highly evolved version of matter’s energy bearing universal matter’s fundamental dynamism of expanding abundance forward into where-it-was-not. The agenda of the “self” is not ultimately for the “self” alone or even for the “self” to decide; the decision and the purpose has already been set: it is the agenda of matter’s living expanding energy. It is a realization that the human generosity exemplified and inspired by matter’s energy is not merely an optional, gratuitous and personally satisfying choice of life-style, but is the necessary emanation of the human organism’s very own constituent structure. Expansive abundance ― transcendence ― is the very nature of matter’s living energy at every level of evolutionary emergence; and as material organisms extruded by a material universe it is our nature as well.