Buddhism

The Beautiful Smallness of Largeness

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We only become more of who we are by opening to the world and opening it up to others.

I’ve worked to find a way to formulate this, and Roberto Unger’s book “The Religion of The Future” (a heavy read but worth it if you’re into religion and psychology) helps. Unger’s idea of a deliberately-constructed religion is one that confronts the impermanence and unsurety of the world to construct a society that would let us grow and develop, being more godlike by being more human. As I put it with affectionate snark, he starts with Buddhist realizations, imagines a functional society with Confucian precision, leading to a world where we hope to evolve ourselves and each other in freedom towards salvation reminiscent of some radical Christian sects.

Unger, even if I question some of his work and opinions, is a deep believer in humanity, and a future and world for all. He wants us to see the spirit, the divine spark, in ourselves and others and to evolve it. If anything, I’d argue his work doesn’t go deep enough into exploring how a view of “let all evolve” is a *spiritual necessity for development* – something I’ve long considered. And now he gives me a launch point I needed.

For those of us familiar with Buddhism and some later syncretic Taoism, the idea of “liberating all” is a vital part of doctrine. One does not just aspire to be liberated from suffering or Attain the Tao, or whatever and walk away. One wishes it for all people, all beings, and in that way, we step out of the shell of our limited ideas of self.

For that, we must walk into the world, and deal with people. We must wish the best for them, not in condescension or false feeling, but on our journey. We have to confront difficult and even dangerous people. This takes us outside of ourselves, our comfort zones. We feel empathy, we put down our barriers, by imagining a world where everyone is “more human and thus more divine.”

Each time we do this, something in us cracks. Boundaries go down. Understanding of people goes up – and thus understanding of ourselves. We remember that we are not separate from the world, we are part of it in a kind of dialogue. We are reminded of how we can evolve and grow – and we do.

Yet, strangely, we also get smaller. We’re less inclined to coddle our biases and bigotries. We’ve got less defined borders. So much of “us” is defined as “not being them” or “not being that” and those are burdens. By letting go so much of us, we become less of what we think we are and more of what we are and who we can be.

You only get to the top by going towards the bottom. So many religious and spiritual practices reminds us to help others, to be engaged in real life, to be there, among the dirt and sadness and reality. That cracks our shells and breaks us so the real us can emerge.

It’s difficult of course. Society is challenging. People can be assholes. But how we relate to people and what kind of world we build is part of our spiritual journey. We just have to figure how to deal with the pathological societies and individuals we face – and how such journeys can help us and others grow. No one said it would be easy, there are no guarantees.

I’d rather become small to become large than walk around in random shackles history gave me.

–Xenofact

Head Full of Ghosts

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If you’ve done any form of meditation or therapy you know about those complexes in your mind. The fears, the obsessions, the habits that take over so much of our life, probably more than we want to admit.

It’s like having a head full of ghosts.

These aren’t the cool ghosts either. There’s no dramatic revelations of the past or lineage. They aren’t some vital spirits directing us to a better life after three disparate visions. None of these ghosts is delivering useful advice. Not a single one resembles Patrick Swayze.

Honestly, these ghosts in our head, these habits and neuroses, are boring and pathetic.

They’re mechanical and repetitive. They run on tracks burrowed into our mind, clockwork-clicking along whatever path set out by our past experiences. They are powerful, they are annoying, but they’re also not that interesting or unique. The reruns of the soul.

They’re often quite pathetic. A bad experience here, a grudge there, something we didn’t acknowledge in the past. Even the horrible ones are sad, the results of our bad choices or the cruelty of others. There’s something invalid about them, and we fear, about ourselves.

They’re damaging. They hurt us, obsess us, misdirect us, but not in any cool way. They’re often stupidly self-destructive – of ourselves and even themselves. They negate themselves yet always resurrect.

But worse of all these Ghosts, these complexes and obsessions of the past are so empty.

There’s nothing to them. No acknowledgement of reality, even when reality triggers them. They don’t grow. They aren’t relevant even if perhaps they once had reason to exist. When we acknowledge them, their shallowness is stunning. Here we are, people, and we have to share our head with these phantoms.

It’s humiliating. These mechanical, harmful, phantasms drive so much of our life and don’t deserve to. I once read someone discussing the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, and decided to translate what is usually interpreted as craving as humiliation, and I get that.

I find looking at this emptiness, this voidness of our complexes helps me deal with them. When you see their shallowness and pointlessness, you can overcome them. Not necessarily by great exertion or cultivation (though it may help) but by just seeing through them and deciding to move on.

They seem to shrink when you do that. Probably because your attention and ignorance was the only thing keeping them going.

–Xenofact

The Blind Hunger of Nothing

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As I write this in 2025, I’ve become fascinated by the amount of people in our culture that are Performative (capitalization intended). They want attention, internet clicks, regard, and engagement, so therefore do whatever gets them that. The Influencers, many a politician, no small amount of media personalities, and way too many social media addicts are Performative; some seem to be only Performative.

OK actually all of those kinds of people are Influencers. Anyway, let’s go on

A peculiar thing I keep noticing among these people for whom Performance is a lifestyle, is the only thing in their life, is an anger that burns inside them. It seethes beneath the surface, it bursts out in conflict far beyond something for attention. It’s seen in the glowering, contemptuous eyes and the edge in the voice that disregards most everyone if not everyone.

I’ve wondered as to the nature of this anger, as there are times it seems outright inhuman. The Performative people are all image, all anger, and in some cases seem barely human. There’s an emptiness there.

So, let’s talk desire.

Desire is the cause of suffering, a we are all too aware from our studies of psychology, Buddhism, Taoism, or just being alive and unhappy. Dealing with desire is a major part of mystical and not-so mystical practices.

Desire cannot truly be sated, it always comes back. It can be satisfied temporarily, perhaps enough for regret or enough to move on. One may recognize the temporary nature of the satisfaction and employ that awareness for wise choices. However many desires have at least the illusion of satisfaction, and in turn there’s some chance of definition.

We want to get laid. We want a drink. We want to get that promotion. Desire has at least some definition, even if we’re deceiving ourselves.

But for those who are Performative, I think satisfaction is elusive. You may engage in Performative behavior to make money or sell something, but the Performative nature can overtake your life. Some people just want the attention – or end up that way – and their entire lies are just about putting on the act to get the clicks, the praise, what have you.

The desire for attention is inherently unsatisfying. It’s temporary, it has to always been maintained, and it’s easily challenged. It also doesn’t relate to anything. You may become Performative to achieve some other goal, but your goal is to be someone else for people you don’t know to get ephemeral attention in order to get advertising dollars or something. You end up abstract from your goals – to achieve solid goals you must be epehmeral.

And that’s if there’s even much of a goal beyond a desire for attention.

I think the Very Performative people are so angry because there is nothing that can satisfy them even temporarily. The become only an act, without even the solidity of the illusion that they can feel satisfaction. They exist as pure performance, always on, always for the ephemera of attention, always empty.

Imagine walking around knowing you are nothing inside. Whatever was there rotted away as you worked on The Performance. You can’t even feel right. Even your anger is just a bitter resentment of everything because you’re nothing.

This insight is helping me understand the Very Performative, that look in their eyes, their instability, their sudden outbursts. They’re a giant yawning gap of desire with no chance of satisfaction because they’re empty of even something to desire. Their a ghost haunting the empty house of their own lives.

–Xenofact