religion

They’re Not Gods

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I was walking near the ocean recently, and just in awe of the power in front of me. There on the coast, water stretching to the horizon, I felt what men had felt since they first looked out upon it: awe. It was beautiful, powerful, otherworldly. That’s the moment you understand gods and how people relate to them.

The power runs deep, and you give it a name to talk to it.

This led me, sadly, to less theistic pursuits as I contemplated the men who would act as gods. Titans of industry, dictators, Influencers, and the like. People high on power who act as if they are geniuses, are divinely touched, as if they can steer the world. But they’re not gods, not at all.

They don’t love their element, their domain. Do they delight in the play of clouds as a sky-god would or feel desert winds in their blood? Are the creatures of their territory something they protect, bringing curses on the disrespectful? Do they adore something so much they are it?

No, they’re people who own, who want to hold it in their hand, but not care or respect, or be.

They don’t wield real power, there’s no divinity, or the mystic virtue, Te of the Tao Te Ching. They use existing systems and hacks and PR teams and the like. Many of them are people who, quite frankly, would be irritating to deal with, and only got lucky or had an inheritance. All seem small, desperately clinging to power, to the system they learned to manipulate, kowtowing easily.

There’s no power there. I can at least think of some scientists and businesspeople and philosophers who had a spark, a confidence, a power. These false gods don’t.

Can these aspiring godlings be actually loved, or appreciated beyond syncophanty and propaganda? They’re not anything. Gods at least are something, even if some are unpleasant. They have their spheres, their powers, their reality. The men who would be gods are in the end just faking it, and don’t care.

It’s all bottom lines and ego boosts. There’s nothing there. A god at least feels and is.

If anything a lot of our modern would-be gods feel like they’re aping the jealous god of the modern Christian, that old no-daddy. Jealous, manipulative, insecure, yanking people around, demanding obedience. The abusive father figure so many chose in place of Jesus and Christian mystics and the like.

They’re nod gods, and are all the more pathetic for their pretensions.

There on the Ocean I felt small, but these would be-gods were so much smaller.

There on the Ocean, I knew the joy of the Truly Large.

-Xenofact

Religious Art Without Either

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My own experiments in surrealist art and how art connects with spirituality have graced a few of these pages. Until I started doing my own art I hadn’t given much consideration to art and spirituality – as most of my interest was written work and meditations. Some art inspired me and I did find “project plan” type diagrams like The Six Realms useful, but I hadn’t thought of it until my own work.

But as I started doing art I started viscerally appreciating the power of art and spirituality. I appreciated my own inspirations much better, as I got them. There’s something powerful about art, bridging all those gaps between feelings and ideas, going where words cannot. The hyperdetailed art of the Six Realms of Buddhism, awe-inspiring pictures of gods, hilarious art of the Eight Immortals – all of those can be rationally analyzed and felt.

Just as spirituality connects things together so does art. No wonder they go together – and are really inseparable.

Which is what brings me to religiously kitschy art. You know the kind, the stuff that is standard, pandering, sometimes pseudo-realistic, and where the message is extremely obvious. The kind of stuff that Queen Coke Francis mocked in one of her videos (also she’s just hilarious and here makeup is on point).

Kitschy religious art kind of fascinates me. It feels dead to me. It’s message is obvious, sometimes in the title or spelled out. The look is often cartoony but without that “edge” where the style brings a benefit of inspiration or feeling, or so realistic it might have well been a photo. The kind of stuff AI churns out because so many people churned it out. I mean I’m talking still work, but I suppose it applies to media like TV.

I always wondered why people would enjoy this art because there’s nothing there. There’s no inspiration to it, nothing to fire you up or inspire you. There’s nothing stylized, no edge to the art to catch on your mind and make you think. It’s just so simple . . .

. . . and then I realized that’s the point.


Kitschy religious art is not about helping you feel or get inspired or go deeper.. It’s about reinforcing what you’re supposed to feel and what others want you to think and feel. In most cases I think about signaling, showing who you are and what you think, it’s not there to help you you think anything deeper.

Which is the point.

In fact, this”art” has to be short of any detail, any extra, any edge. If you take any liberties, get a bit stylish, etc. you risk inspiring people. Anything playful, any attempts to be really artsy risks getting people to feel something, to speculate, to feel something. Kitschy religious art has to avoid any risk because for all you know it might actually do something for you. No wonder so much of it is simple.

Of course this leads me to wonder how kitsch can be used to conceal inspiration or how one might inspire people to put a bit more into their kitsch that may produce deeper thoughts . . .

–Xenofact

Room For The Mystic

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I have a book on my reading pile that I really need to get to, Alchemists, Mediums, and Magicians: Stories of Taoist Mystics by Thomas Cleary. It a catalog of assorted Taoist eccentrics, mystics, artists, and so on. It’s strange that I haven’t rushed to read what is basically “character study of characters” but there you go.

I have poked around in it, delighting at some of the stories. It also made me think about other Taoist figures, from the legendary immortals to 18th century doctor and mystic Liu Yiming (who apparently predicted his own death). Taoism has a legion of artists, mystics, sorcerers and other impressive weirdos throughout its history.

I suppose it’s no surprise I feel at home among this cast.

This got me to think about how many of these tales are about people who wrote great treatises, explored mystical states, founded orders, created poetry, and are noteworthy centuries and aeons later. They did this without the internet, without social media, without megachurches – many of them seemed to oddly not care about fame but achieved it anyway.

Even more obscure figures may still appear in historical documents – or in the book like the one I mentioned.

As I write this in 2025 I think about how we’re pushed to monetize everything – and avoid things that don’t make us money. We’ve got example after example of spiritual grifters to tempt us to start monetizing videos. Why can’t we just be religious weirdos?

We also don’t really encourage people to really live their religion. Our own religious pursuits are “fine and good” but you know, don’t take it too far. If you’re gonna be weird at least be religiously obsessive in the right way.

Oh, and to be sure don’t be religious in a way that makes the world better. We’re fine with homophobia and war-mongering, but don’t you dare tell us to care about each other! And be sure you never denounce the system or anything!

We don’t really have place to just be some spiritual weirdo in American culture, and we need those.

We need the eccentrics who contemplate the strange and discuss it, and that’s fine. We need people who produce zines (ahem) to spread their thoughts obsessively. We need to have room culturally for someone dispensing wisdom fro their front porch. We need people who live their spiritual practices.

We need people whose mystical meanderings may lead us to something. Let society have it’s spiritual Skunkworks.

Besides, if we had more people really thinking about the Big Ideas, we’d have less cults and megachurches. If we accepted the idea of a spiritual quest as fine, acceptable, and laudable who knows what we might have. Especially if we don’t encourage people to make a buck first.

I suppose I’m doing my part. It makes me wonder what happens if more and more of we weirdos live sincerely and team up. It also makes me wonder if maybe I’ve got some inhibitions I’m best without . . .