Would that She could only see me now, 
my shattered life affixed with glue of Gold—
yet there's no way, nor means, nor any How. 

I've pieced together bedrock from a cloud, 
so irrigating this, a harvest bold. 
Would that She could only see me Now. 

But our continued love was not allowed. 
Before we met, our fate had been foretold. 
There was not any way, nor means, nor How. 

I was then tightly bound in selfish shroud
constraining any movement of my Soul. 
Would that she could only see me now. 

She wanted dearly to assist my growth, 
and see me free of this too-narrow scope. 
There was no way, nor means, nor any how. 

But time will clutch the water's hope to flow, 
unless I empty out myself, and so. 
Would that she could only see me now. 
This is the Way, the Means, the glorious How. 

There are gaps and cracks in the body, the neck is out of whack and needs to be realigned, the bridge needs care, and the strings are old and need to be replaced and tuned.

The way I’m doing this is through daily prayer and meditation, taking a course where I’m reading the Bible as poetry, reading and writing poems, participating in a book club reading Paradise Lost, taking personal inventory about the resentments I hold and the people with whom I need to make amends, visiting with others in recovery to share experience, strength, and hope, and fostering the eternal fire that makes me a complete person who lives and loves alongside the others I wish to treat with Love and Compassion.

This self needs to be reconstructed so that it can be whole, so that it can integrate into the world and thus be integrated, to have integrity. To be its own self so that it can feel that connection with other selves, to participate in the rhythm and harmony of Life in the Cosmos.

This work is slow, and requires attention. Radical honesty, practicing acute self-awareness without the vindictive judgment that can break the instrument through pressure and keep it stuck in the shameful state of isolation.

Here’s some Coleridge:

“And what if all of animated nature

Be but organic Harps diversely framed,

That tremble into thought, as o’er them sweeps

Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,

At once the Soul of each, and God of all?”

— The Aeolian Harp

I hope you have a marvelous day.

Attentively,

Aaron

Circuituitous Roots: Curiosity, Care, and the Promise of Curiosophy

In the Latin etymology of "curiosity" lies a profound truth often overlooked in our hurried world: its root "cura" means care. This linguistic connection reveals that curiosity and care are not merely related concepts but twin expressions of the same fundamental human impulse. When we are genuinely curious about something or someone, we inherently care about them; when we deeply care, we naturally become curious.

Cicero understood this when he observed that what drew sailors to the sirens' rocky shores was not just their enchanting voices but "the passion for learning"—a curiosity so compelling it overrode self-preservation. This ancient insight suggests that our drive to know is not a superficial impulse but a profound expression of our connection to the world.

Throughout history, this intrinsic relationship between curiosity and care has manifested in various ways. The scientist peering through a microscope at cellular structures, the parent attentively watching their child's development, the activist researching environmental degradation—all exemplify how curiosity operates as an expression of care, and care fuels deeper curiosity.

This interrelationship offers a foundation for what might be called "Curiosophy"—a philosophy that positions curiosity not merely as intellectual inquisitiveness but as an ethical stance toward existence. Curiosophy recognizes that genuine curiosity is never merely passive observation but active engagement with the object of attention. It is a way of being that refuses indifference and embraces interconnection.

In our contemporary context, where atomization and alienation have become defining social conditions, Curiosophy offers a radically different approach to knowledge. Unlike instrumentalized forms of knowing that treat information as a commodity, Curiosophy treats knowledge as relationship. The Curiosophist seeks to know not to dominate or exploit, but to relate more deeply.

As Joanna Macy suggests in her ecological philosophy, when we perceive the world as both lover and self, we recognize that our relationship with it is defined by both passionate attention and fundamental identity. This dual perception perfectly captures the essence of Curiosophy: we are drawn to know that which we love, and in knowing it, we discover ourselves.

Curiosophy challenges the dangerous dichotomy between objective knowledge and subjective care that has characterized much of modern thought. It suggests that the most profound forms of knowing arise not from detached observation but from attentive care—a truth that indigenous knowledge systems have long embraced and that cutting-edge science is beginning to rediscover.

As we face unprecedented planetary challenges, cultivating this integrated approach to knowing becomes essential. Climate change, biodiversity loss, and social inequity cannot be addressed through technological fixes alone but require a fundamental transformation in how we relate to each other and to the more-than-human world.

Curiosophy—with its integration of curiosity and care—provides a philosophical foundation for this transformation.

By reclaiming curiosity as a form of care, we discover that what we choose to be curious about reflects and shapes what we value. The practice of intentional curiosity becomes not merely an intellectual exercise but a moral one—a way of directing our care toward that which sustains life rather than that which diminishes it.

In this light, Curiosophy emerges as more than a philosophical concept; it becomes a practice of ethical attention, a way of healing our fractured relationships with each other and with the earth, an essential wisdom for navigating our complex world with both clear eyes and an open heart.

Welles was, by all accounts, an interesting chap. Books have been written about his career, which spanned drama, radio, and film-making, and movies have been made about him or featuring him as a character — including the very good Cradle Will Rock (which I highly recommend).

But one of his most interesting aspects was his interest in popularizing Shakespeare, during which he would often mash parts from several plays together to make one thing.

Which is what he does here, in order to make an entire picture about one character who appears in several plays — Falstaff. (For a marvelous instance where he gives a how-to about theatre make-up and performs one of Falstaff’s monologues, see here.)

The tension in this picture centers around Falstaff’s friendship with Prince Hal (a prince soon to be king). Hal spends time in London away from his father’s crown, often cavorting with company of the kind which finds the King’s disapproval, Falstaff being the most notable.

Hal is being groomed to take the throne, and yet here he is joking around and gaffooning with a loudmouth drunkard, a raconteur and fibber, who owes money to many people which he occasionally subsidizes via robbery, and whose sole contribution to life and the world seems to be humor, charisma, and the ensuing fair-weather friendships.

In the Chimes at Midnight, Hal has to contend with the fact that this is not the sort with whom he should be associated should he wish to be a proper King. And yet the warmth and conviviality of Falstaff serve as bold contrast to his father’s cold and disapproving demeanor.

Rather than focusing solely on Prince Hal’s inner conflict, however (although he does show it), Welles also focuses on Falstaff — a man who, despite his shortcomings, legitimately thinks himself a friend of Hal. What will it mean for their friendship when Hal takes the throne and becomes Henry V?

Strangely relatedly, the picture features a moment where Falstaff uses the word “addict.” (Some say that it is in Othello where Shakespeare coins the term “addiction.”)

If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack. — Falstaff in Henry IV

Dict- means “word,” and a dictum is a thing said or decreed. To addict oneself to something is to assign oneself to it, as though to a pursuit or master.

An addict is someone who has become defined and characterized by their substance — a woeful state which robs one of both identity and agency.

Falstaff, in this passage which glorifies the effects of drinking brandy-fortified sherry-wine (“sack”) is arguing that he would teach his sons not to be known for drinking weaker concoctions, but to instead be associated with drinking something far stronger (And more famous. “Sack” seems to have been both very popular and widely criticized in Shakespeare’s day.)

Could Falstaff have served as a more successful man had he not had this addiction? Were he to have been dry, could he have been a Duke or Earle in Hal’s court?

As with so many things, Shakespeare seems ambiguous about this. While the questions might be answered in the affirmative, Shakespeare also seems to think it equally important that Falstaff live as he was written — that in his inability to be a man of rank, he was liberated to be a man of comedy and wit, a man who pricked the dour, outer shell of others to elicit the humanity which transcends their rank.

An alcoholic in recovery myself, I actually cherish the ambiguity. As with so much other art, the play is a space in which the imagination can ask such questions without resolution, while still leaving myself to live a sober life that can celebrate Falstaff’s virtues without following his example.

I hope that all of you had a marvelous weekend and are ready for the week.

With much affection, I am

Yours, Amiably, 


Aaron

The end-goal is, after all, Flourishing.

It’s not intended to make us self-flagellating hypocrites, but full human beings — complete with Joy, Happiness, Beauty and the like.

That Beauty is cognizant of Sorrow is only part of its charm.

The idea is to strip away thought processes that are not advantageous, to liberate the mind from the tendencies that keep us bound by self-destructive patterns.

Fail-fully I say this to you, from a vantage of trial and ever-present error.

Yesterday, something occurred to me. It was both event and thought.

Working away like the moody elf I am, I began to get knotted up in one of my neurotic loops.

I was unhappy about something. Let’s call it Monday.

I was unhappy in my work, thought I had a problem with it, and began to ruminate on all of my perceived complaints.

Before I knew it, all of life was intolerable, and I began to have let’s call them self-destructive ideas.

Suddenly, an internal voice spoke to me.

“Are you so ungrateful that, because of these few difficulties, you would throw away all of the Beauty and wonder that I have given you?!”

I had no choice but to respond “No. Of course not. I will be better.”

And on I went with work, everything just the same as before, although entirely different. What had seemed like toil and drudgery was now meaningful work — interesting and engaging to my now-curious mind.

What this voice was, I’ll leave to your imagination.

It’s said that Antisthenes, student of Socrates, had this to say about his teacher:

“I learned how to dialogue with myself. I learned how to do with myself what I would do with the man I was with Socrates.

That is, he internalized the sage.

Much as I did in Vajrayana, when I embedded the visualization of Green Tara, the beneficent goddess, who was ever-present in my consciousness and imbued the whole of consciousness with the soft light of Compassion and the power of the Mantra, I have over the past three years embedded a similar consciousness with the dialectical teachings of Y’shua the Anointed.

This has been cultivated through daily prayer and weekly liturgy, the Mass.

Because of it, I have trained my brain to have a personal relationship with my Meta-cognition, and to realize myself as a participant in the cosmos, as opposed to a slave.

John Vervaeke believes

“You can understand Stoicism as a philosophy, or religion, that's trying to internalise Socrates in a really living way.”

Y’shua said “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” His early followers were self-described as adherents of “The Way.”

And the way would set you free.

He sounded a bit more self-aggrandizing than Socrates (to our Modern ear) not least because he was working in an Abrahamic metier. (It’s noteworthy that he never attributed his Power to himself, but always to the One.)

Enough apologetics. The point I’m making is that the Stoic part of Christianity is as helpful as the Stoic part of Stoicism, and that I found the techniques in the same fashion that I found the Stoic parts of Buddhism.

And that part may be described as “dialectic,” the ability to build a mental system which questions the logic of its own assumptions, and seeks to find a fruitful homeostasis within the organism.

We’re beautifully complex creatures, after all, and deserve to enjoy the delights our cognition offers us.

Fond thoughts of you this Tiwesdæg, governed by Mars.

May all of our internal battles be victorious.

Abashedly, 

Aaron

This is an inability for people to endure the challenges of social experience without being hit with bouts of anxiety.

We’re living in a challenging time, and most of us are caught up in atomized, isolated positions of ideological assumptions that work while we’re alone or surrounded with like-minded others, but which break when put in the company of those who disagree, or when placed in high-stress situations such as school or work.

I suffer from this as much as anyone else, and am writing this not from the position of virtue, but from one of confession.

Fortunately, I can also write about it from the perspective of evangelization. (Not in the sense of indoctrination that word sometimes connotes, but rather from its true source of “bringing good news.”)

Because there is good news.

Firstly, this is not the first time we’ve had a large-scale cultural shake-up. In the US, we’ve undergone two or three other major shake-ups before.

The complicating feature this time is, of course, a new sort of psychologically-driven technology — social media and artificial intelligence in particular.

I think that whatever your thesis about the nature of human history (I happen to think that we’re about 100,00+ years old and developed to thrive best in hunter-gatherer scenarios), we can all more or less agree that we’re not built to be our best in front of screens. We seem to do best when we have family and friends, mutual support, and an active lifestyle that includes the engagement of our bodies. (I’m not being ableist here — there are many ways to engage the body.)

From what I gather listening to and reading the people who seem most attentive to these issues, our best practice for healing is Meta-Cognition coupled with Mindful Awareness.

That is, the ability to notice our emotional fluctuations without judgment, and the ability to think about the thinking.

Wow, I’m really angry right now. That’s okay. I have just cause to be frustrated about what this other person is saying. Because I love myself, and value my health, I’m going to let this anger pass and look for the most proactive small things I can do so that I can feel I’m participant in a helpful way without being unnecessarily destructive.

If you’re like me, not doing this can be literally fatal. Three of these experiences in a day can lead me to have the sort of negative thinking that makes life seem absolutely unbearable. When this happens, I start looking for ways to escape.

But I don’t want to escape. And, beyond the DBT camp who is looking for a “life worth living,” I have a personal moral perspective that to lapse into this state of ingratitude is an insult to the One, whom I love.

That’s me. I’ve come to that perspective over a decade of meditating and praying, studying, thinking, and writing.

For me, that perspective is faster and more efficacious than attempting to rationalize everything. I can now notice the thinking and re-cognize it without a lot of additional verbiage.

When I try to rationalize everything, I hit “combinatorial explosion” — there are simply too many potential hypotheses to discern, and my cognition can’t handle the overload.

So I return to my secret mantra and realize that I am connected to a greater, ever-present consciousness which empowers me with the transcendent power of Love. I don’t “think” this, I re-cognize it by sensing the pulse of a phrase I’ve internalized over practice, which now comes automatically.

(As far as interacting with my human adversary, I’ve personally found that asking questions helps more than making statements. to me is the Gold Standard for practicing this effectively.)

Mindfulness has seen its faddish popularity rise and fade. John Vervaeke has made a compelling case for thinking of it slightly differently, translating the word “Sati” (from Vipassana and other forms of Buddhism) as meaning more “Remembering” or “Returning.”

To what do we return? I have an effusely personal and abstract answer to that, but one need not. One can simply return to the body.

I personally believe that your cognition is a magnificent phenomenon, and Beautiful. As I type this, I celebrate you prayerfully, longing for your continued health and happiness.

It is my greatest hope that you enjoy bouts of blissful psychic experience on this blessed Day.

Affectionately, 


Aaron

It’s difficult to define what Beauty is, but we can look to classical definitions to get a sense.

In the Old Way, it was a sense of proportionality. We see this in architecture, particularly in Cathedrals, where a grand symmetry guides the principle of the building. But we also see it in ancient statues, where faces and bodies were chiseled to represent an ideal perfection.

In the New World which I inhabit, I like to think about it more in terms of Coleridge’s terms for poetry: “the reconciliation of discordant or opposite qualities.” The way it manifests for me is the sudden strike of recognition when I behold something (generally in a person) which jogs me out of my set of narcissistic assumptions and into a participatory sphere where I am asked to Be Better and think more Charitably.

As Marilynne Robinson says, “Beauty Disciplines.”

In her essay “Grace and Beauty,” she writes about it in this way (I’m leaving her lowercase):

“I am treating beauty here as an active principle. I use elegance as a virtual synonym for it, pleased that elegance has status by association with good thought, though I try not to exploit this. I do not mean to say that one thing or another rises to the standard of beauty, rather I propose that beauty manifests itself in one thing or another, even asserts itself when accident permits. In saying this I intend to suggest a kind of force active in reality, perhaps very pervasively, that we have no instruments to measure or record except our minds and senses. Consider the ancient, perhaps universal association of beauty with power. The greater the god, the more splendid the temple, as if like were meant to conjure like.”

When I was 20 or so I wrote a song called “Revolutions Sure” which had the lyrics “Beauty bring me, Beauty break me, Beauty take me away.” I mention it merely because it comes into memory as I write this.

Robinson’s essay came from the perspective of a novelist, and she admits as much. In the piece, she is concerned with how characters emerge, which asks her to consider something of the nature of the mind. As she considers this emergence, she feels compelled to revel at just how unknowable most of the universe is, including the essences of many of the terms we use to describe it and our place within it.

“The fact is that I have begun to feel both intrigued and comforted by the thought of everything we do not know, which is almost everything. The 95 percent of the mass of the universe that is dark matter holds the galaxies together, so they say. It is like a parable, this aloof and unknowable power sustaining us, the patron, so to speak, of the spangled heavens, which are so grand to our sight, and baubles when the universe is thought of whole. Whatever it is, it is utterly unlike the matter that is familiar to us, so I have read. How excellent it is that anything could be so unforeseen. And just as excellent, and fully as remarkable, that humankind has managed to catch a glimpse of it.”

When you’re in recovery programs, you’re sometimes asked to think of things you greatly value in the world, that you might have a motivation for choosing to abstain from your “substance of choice.” SMART Recovery clumsily calls this the “Vitally Absorbing Creative Interest.” This is the thing that, no matter what, is always Good, and always something you value more than you value whatever illusory titillation your substance brings you.

As abstract as it is, and as hard to define, the last time I was in the hospital asked to come up with such an idea, I wrote it simply, and in a single word:

Beauty.

May many blessings befall you on this beautiful day. 



Aesthetically, 


Aaron

Seth Godin, a writer I really like, assures me of this.

It’s one way of thinking about it. The fear, he says, is really fear of bad writing. Plumbers don’t have plumber’s block, he assures me. Nor do electricians get wiring block.

They may have to think a few extra minutes about how to go about their job. I suppose that’s not the worst thing in the world, to take a few extra minutes to plan a strategy.

Daily blogging on the other hand, is more like writing a diary. The only difference is that all of you see it.

I don’t get writers block in my hand-written notebooks, of which I have trunks full. There, I just enjoy the pleasure of creating the sentence, making the statement, trying the metaphor, often rhyming or making poetry.

But this things’s going out to emails. EMAILS! What would I do if one of you got annoyed? Oh, not McNally again. I have GOT to figure out how to unsubscribe.

These are the types of fears that begin to creep in, shutting down the flow of craft. Once I’m sufficiently worried, there is the “block.” I suddenly don’t feel like writing. I’m suddenly apprehensive.

Writing itself is a pleasure. Each sentence leading to the other, like yesterday’s post. I write one sentence and take in the import of its suggestion. Almost any sentence is good enough, although I’d like them to be beautiful. But more important is sitting with its meaning and wondering whether it’s something I can live with as a statement. And if there’s something which needs to be added or clarified, the next sentence is always ready at hand.

Falling from the propulsion of the first into the restful catch of the next sentence, which then pushes me forward again.

It was happy that I made that connection between writing and walking here, and it is happy that the idea continues to inspire.

There are appropriate times and places for apprehension. This simply isn’t one of them.

But “apprehension” also means “to grasp.” To come into contact with the truth about something. (See its sibling, “comprehension.”)

And I do need to write with acceptance. Acceptance that this might be boring. That it might not be of use to you.

I’m going to lose followers, after all, as I establish my voice and learn what this thing is about. Not everyone is going to fancy the McNally sauce, and those who do aren’t going to want to use it in every dish they’re cooking.

But here it is, packaged up for you with a tolerably handsome label. While I appreciate it, I’m not longing for your acceptance or admiration. This isn’t a numbers game I’m playing. It’s a practice which I find valuable. Some people may find it valuable, too.

And while I’m still fiddling with the ingredients, it’s fun to cook.

Ambitiously,

Aaron

“This very Self is greatest Joy,

because it is the object of greatest Love,

and nobody says that I should not exist.

Everybody says I should continue to exist.

There we see that it is the Source

of greatest Joy and Love.”

— Swami Sarvapriyananda,

translating the Panchadasi of Vidyaranya

I am not precious because of anything I’ve done,

but because I am a manifestation of the One,

and I love that One with all of my heart and soul.

Because I love that One with all of my heart and soul,

it is necessary for me to cherish and protect my life,

as well as the lives of others,

honoring and treating them with respect

and that same Love.

Sin is that which tears me from this ideal —

Virtue is that which strengthens my aspiration toward it.

May many blessings come to you.

Affectionately,

Aaron

Confronted with this, and visited by a friend who had managed to scrape together several months of sobriety via religio-spiritual practice, Wilson came to realize a very simple principle:

He was going to defeat his drinking by neither Self-Knowledge nor Will.

Armed with a “Spiritual Experience” which came in the hospital via prayer (as well as being tossed a copy of James’ Varieties of Religious Experience), he came to believe that it was imperative he begin to work with other alcoholics.

After a few years’ success practicing this newfound technique of service, he (alongside another drunk who he had helped to get sober) created the Twelve Steps (which would later exapt into Principles) — founded on the notion that one must look internally at the moral failings which prevented them from functioning properly in society, creating a supportive fellowship in which sufferers could people an anonymous subculture in order to learn and practice these spiritual techniques.

One of the typical challenges afflicting these people was resentment, which he came to realize was an aspect of Pride, or Vainglory.

Which prompts me to consider an idea which came to me recently concerning the disease model of addiction, in which I heard a phrase that continues to maintain coherence in my mind:

Evil is a (terminal) disease.

The reason the Seven Deadly Sins are called “deadly” is because they can, in a very real sense, become fatal.

Much of what thwarts alcoholics is a belief in their own self-destructive bullshit.

As cognitive John Vervaeke stresses (echoing philosopher Harry G. Frankfurt’s technical definition of “bullshit”), “the very processes which make us adaptive are those which make us susceptible to self-deception.”

Self-deception can take many forms, and an individual who has been socially isolated for long enough, and who has committed enough evil acts so as to hurt others such that we concretize our own isolation, will eventually reach the spot where an otherwise organic process of death will be high-jacked and accelerated by a more malicious one.

Bullshit is a form of thought or persuasion that is willing to overlook the criterion of Truth, often in order to distract from or rationalize away an overlooked issue.

Wilson realized that, in order to save himself from this cancerous malady, he had to experience a complete psychic change.

The study of how to heal a sick soul (“Psyche”) is called “Psychology,” and when Bill Wilson composed his book Alcoholics Anonymous to try to raise funds and help others in remote locations, he was also creating perhaps the most influential self-help book of all time.

For the soul can indeed become sick and, at William James’ suggestion, Wilson realized that religious scripture had for millennia been confronting this very truth.

His program of developing a secular language to address this phenomenon has helped tens of millions of people become sober, prompted new medical and psychological ways of dealing with addictive illness, and mutated into dozens of twelve-step models for other behavioral and substance addictions.

I have recently found through personal experience that breaking these ideas down into concepts like Sin (“error” or “imperfection”) and Evil (that which attempts to thwart and destroy the Good, Beautiful, and True), are convenient short-hands which (while being troublingly complex with respect to culture and identity) make the work substantially easier.

Goodness knows that we need this difficult work to become easier.

And, while every tool can be a weapon, it's still useful to apply them to work so long as the (psycho)technology remains effective.

In my own personal testimony, I've found these concepts to continue to be so.

“Why is it that I only feel I can be honest while drunk?”

It's something of a conundrum. The assumption the statement makes is that there's some aspect of myself which strongly desires to state certain things which are almost impossible to represent without seeming severely and maliciously critical.

Or, fun and funny while seeming random and paradoxical to others.

All of these thoughts and tendencies are part of my self. But, as these things go, are only acceptable in certain company.

Another friend once told me they didn't like talking to me when I'm drunk. The reason? “You're not yourself.”

Both sides are true. I am myself in all states, although I'm not entirely myself in either.

Of course, we're never entirely ourselves, and therein lies the rub. We're always conforming to various agent/arena relationships in every situation, playing down and highlighting various urges and aspects.

It's when, in one state or another, you feel some aspect of yourself is being held hostage that we begin to have a problem. (Which is one of the reasons IFS can offer some pretty potent therapy. More to come.)

My Easter resolution is to continue to honor the ways in which sobriety can offer me opportunities to allow for more parts of myself to integrate in different situations. It is my intention to begin to inject new bits of propositional and participatory courage into various situations, all while alcohol-free, in an attempt to integrate aspects of my exiled selves into the integral whole.

My friends don’t want to be around me when I’m drunk because, in those states, my meta-cognition is trashed, and my exiles come out like goblins making a big ol’ shit-show.

Further, if I’m drinking, I’m undependable, and un-trustworthy.

In short, when I’m drinking I’m often an asshole. Even when I’m not the “angry drunk,” I’m still not being participatory or helpful — and while this solitude might be delicious for the sober poet crafting his Odes, it is shit for the narcissistic prick who just wants to avoid discomfort and cloak himself in a hazy pleasure.

I owe it to myself to learn who I am, and to allow that being to thrive to the best of their ability. It may not wind up in fame and fortune, but whatever shape it takes will be sincere. And authenticity is the cornerstone of the authorial persona.

I look forward to your letters.


Attendantly,

Aaron

NOTE: This presentation is coming from the vantage of substance addictions. While the same concepts can apply to process addictions, this presentation is phrased in a way that is specific to substance use.

I once had a friend (a medical doctor) say to me that he was not certain it was best to lump all types of addiction into one category.

That has given me a lot of thought — and I am interested in knowing more about the disadvantages of the common nomenclature.

One obvious advantage of collecting them together in religo, however, is that it can be useful in expressing their common pain.

It is very difficult to explain the experience of being addicted to non-addicted people. Indeed, in my experience trying FIVE different treatment modalities (with mixed results from each one), the most powerful benefit I’ve noticed from any is the simple fact that there are people there who can understand what I’m going through and where I’m coming from. This is a problem, because we have a LOT of addiction in this culture. According to the 2022 National Survey on Drug Use and Health Data, we can reasonably (and conservatively) assume the following:

• In 2022, 48.7 million people aged 12 or older (or 17.3%) had a substance use disorder (SUD) in the past year, including 29.5 million who had an alcohol use disorder (AUD), 27.2 million who had a drug use disorder (DUD), and 8.0 million people who had both an AUD and a DUD.

That’s almost 15% of the population, which can assure you of the fact that

whether or not you’re an addict, addiction affects your life.

Currently, what we have addicted people do is tell them to go to treatment or join a mutual aid society. These are most certainly very helpful, and are probably essential. That said, we have a BIG gap between that and how we think about those addicts as people — and the types of expectations and resources we have for them when we try to create a space for them to (potentially) reintegrate into society.

I am of three minds, “like a tree in which there are three blackbirds.” I understand that a reckless person must be held at proper distance simply for damage control. I also understand that mutual aid societies can provide a unique opportunity for addicts to find a common core, connect with others, and collaborate on accessing resources.

But I ALSO think that it is not helpful for non-addicted people to simply think that it is simply not their problem — or that the problem is simply an unpleasant nuisance to be swept under the rug. I DO think that there is a larger Meaning Crisis indicated by an Enlightenment Gap, and that we have a corporate problem as a culture which is promoting greed and individual ambition over a more sacral appreciation of the beauty and grandeur of Life. Despite the advantages of rehab centers and mutual aid societies, funneling addicts into a subculture increases the likelihood of recidivism into use (and all of the potentially criminal destruction associated with that).

I’m currently engaging with Dr. Dunnington’s Addiction and Virtue, and I intend to publish here and elsewhere as a mark of that activity. He makes a good case against the disease model, while respecting and honoring the reasons it has gained a necessary popularity.

There is a larger point he makes in the book, however, about why we become addicted in the first place. And it’s the best thing I’ve seen out there. More to come.

I look forward to your letters.

Attendantly,

Aaron

As the child is to the adult, the adult is to the Sage. — Ancient Proverb

Listening to Maverick Matt Lewis’s program recently, I came across a bit of very helpful analysis.

Two “Republicans” (perhaps better described as “Conservatives”) were describing two very different types of “Right”-leaning Anti-Trump sentiment. In the era of the RINO, these folks are all called “Never-Trumpers” — people who would ordinarily be seen as dependably checking “R” on the ballet, but who had major issues (and, in some cases, identity crises) when the real estate man from Queens became a troublesome force.

You may have guessed that the majority of these voters are solidly critical of the policies of the Biden White House (so far as any coherent sense can be made of said edifice).

Matt and his Guest split these folks into two “camps,” each concentric around two editorial boards of two media collectives.

“People at the Bulwark actively want to vote for the Democratic Party at this point, whereas people at the Dispatch (and the Never-Trumpers at the National Review) do not like the Democrats (and the prospect of a second Biden Presidency) any more than they like the prospect of a second Trump Presidency.” — Guy Denton

Lewis agreed with the distinction, but made a bit of a further (and very substantial) point.

“In fairness to the Bulwark people, I think maybe their motives are [that] the Republican Party must be destroyed — vanquished — and the only way to do that is for the Party to hit rock bottom so that Reagan Conservatism can come back.” — Matt Lewis

The nature of the bifurcation get slippery when one considers, “Well, don’t the Dispatch people want Reagan conservatism to come back, too?” Asking that question begets two more: “Who is more Reagan-like, Biden or Trump?” and “What is Republicanism if it transcends Reagan (considering both Lincoln and Trump, among many more)?”

These questions are worth their laboriously chewy mouthfeel for a couple of reasons. Professed Democrats (and the wildly disparate factions which also tend to vote that way) might want to understand “How can we do a better job of reaching the Dispatch people?” Understanding that could affect interpretations of Biden policy, influencing messaging in very substantial ways.

But, more than this, it’s worth wondering how we got into this mess in the first place, essentially bound by an ostensibly less and less useful (but perhaps, at least at the presidential level, necessary) two-party system.

I’m not a historian, and I am not even an armchair-level scholar on this topic. I have, however, disliked the two-party system since long before I was ever of legal age to vote. Part of my path into maturity has involved accepted the fact that voting has less to do with me choosing a presidential candidate who believes what I believe, and more with accepting a figurehead who will open the possibility that at least, given the right congressional alignment, a helpful bill might be signed rather than vetoed.

The reality is that no candidate at any level in any party believes what I believe. And I can look back to any public servant who ever showed up to work and nitpick infinitely. (I’m aware that calling them public servants sounds ironic in this era, but I choose to stick to that nomenclature, because it’s necessary and we ought not sacrifice it.)

John Russon, professor of philosophy at the University of Guelph, contends that maturity involves both improved self-knowledge and an improved capacity to face up to reality and all of its real challenges1. I’ve taken great pains throughout my life to listen to as many voices as possible and synthesize the core concerns as best as possible to take considered stances on issues. At 43, I’m realizing that I simply don’t have the individual computer power to make that lift, and as much as I listen and read, I can’t possibly find the golden mean, and have to accept that politics will simply reflect the culture, whatever its ills. And, despite whatever myth of the well-tempered public servant of the past, no individual politician is going to have that power, either.

Hardcore Democrat Bill Scher, in another conversation with Matt, put it this way:

“The Democratic Party is a coalition. It is demographically diverse, it is ideologically diverse, and it needs a unifying force to keep it together. If you swap out the current incumbent, there’s no way to quickly reassemble it.”

The question then becomes “Is the Republican party also a coalition?” It might be tempting to think, “Well, it should be, because without a center we cannot have a philosophically coherent government which votes accordingly, and we cannot make legislation that attends to a healthy economy or a healthy society.”

But to make that assumption in the real circumstances of American society, with all of its very different people, sounds vaguely fascistic to me, and it makes another Reagan sound no more appealing than another Trump. Either way, you’re going to have one ideological group saying “This is what America is. This is what it needs. If you don’t like it, shut your mouth.” And, as Tom Nichols of the Atlantic (the author of Death of Expertise and Our Own Worst Enemy) also said to Matt:

“In isolation from other human beings, people really want to believe that they represent the majority view of things. And they just have a hard time accepting that millions of other people don’t agree with them. So when they are rebuffed politically, or they see outcomes that they don’t like [. . . ] they construct very elaborate reasons why that’s not their fault, and why it happens despite how popular they and their guy and their ideas are. Because only a really big conspiracy could thwart the things that they want.

But there’s also this huge, weird streak of narcissism involved in all of this, where ME and my political movement are so important that [undesirable forces] are merely there to screw with me.

[. . .]

I think for people who are constantly bored by the grind of daily life, this makes life interesting. You’re not just surrounded by pop stars and athletes. You are in the middle of this Hollywood movie where [the enemy] is conniving to deprive you. It’s silly, it’s childish, but it’s also dangerous.

[. . .]

I have a theory that people who claim to be flat-earthers are just lonely and attention-seeking. They just want someone to come and argue with them [. . .] because they just want someone to talk to them about anything.

[. . .]

When you are in isolation from other people not only are you lonely and crave a sense of community, but you start slicing that sense of community very fine so that the dopamine hit is by associating only with people who completely agree with you.”

Now, Matt has done something amazing in that he has conversed with Liberal Bill Scher every week for decades. When they disagree on a point, Matt is actually the one in the pair more likely to say, “I grant your argument, but I choose to disagree.” For that reason, as well as for the fact that they are both well-read and attentive to all of the goings-on I have too much time to follow, I continue to listen to their conversations.

One promising potential on the ground is the practice of Circling, in which people communicate in a very measured, meditative way such that they can learn to hear one another, rather than listen with the intention of responding. This technique involves going out of your way to indicate that you have heard what the other said before you respond.

You can’t do this while drunk, or stoned. And you can’t do it in a friend group who simply agrees with you.

But if you do it consistently, and with discipline and reverence, you can do it in such a way that what emerges is a new sensibility for the nature of the problem.

And we need that badly. But we also need something far more important, and far more difficult. We need to stop thinking that “our candidate” means “my faction’s candidate” and instead think of it as “the representative who was elected, who is now tasked with governing all of us.”

This could take decades to achieve culturally. We had hoped that the internet, social media, and now even AI, would break the back of radio and tv and change the way that people started thinking about issues. But the reality is that all of that is more and more designed to target markets, essentially spoon-feeding people the ideas that they already accept.

And until we grow up and stop living in the illusion that there is a correct way, and that the candidate who embodies that is the correct candidate, we’re not going to get past this. We need to start thinking of the country as the richly diverse dynamical system that it is, and start imagining the best possible approaches for the best number of people, acknowledging that none of us will ever be satisfied. That’s called reality.

And, despite my own biases and prejudices, it is ultimately far more Beautiful.

When asked by a friend via text what was on my mind, I replied with the above.

I’d had dinner with a geologist the night before, who specializes in noting in both lab and field evidences of the causal forces behind mass extinctions. This led to the occasional allusion, as would be expected, to the nature of the mass extinction currently in process. But, rather than bringing a dour cloud to the discourse, the converse instead involved our accounts of classroom teaching, and the many resources abundant in that milieu.

Then, this morning, spurred by a prompt on the UTOK Circle, I watched a dismal but provocative meditation on the nature of the meta-crisis by Daniel Schmachtenberger. Again, however, in the context of the UTOK community, we came to see the threats as necessary opportunities to confront challenges and create meaning within and without in the pursuit of well being in the cosmic order.

My friend then asked me:

How do you ground your optimism? What is its source?

Realistic Optimism

• I call my variety a realistic optimism, and frame it by distinguishing two things I don't believe:

  • I don’t believe in a fairy-tale happy ending where everything will just work itself out if we let it be, nor even if we work hard to try to change things.

  • I don’t believe that things are actually "good" rather than "bad" and that it's all just a matter of attitude. While we can characterize things as preferable or not based on our positions and assumptions, in the call to Wisdom it is requisite that we allow ourselves the discomfort of having our assumptions challenged.

• Making these distinctions, I assert that my optimism is the decision to optimize, or make best of, that which is currently available within my own power.

• Some of the things which are within my own power directly involve my own health and well being, which need not be needlessly sacrificed unless there is something I'm doing which obviously hurts others.

• All of this boils down to a spiritual/ontological fidelity for me in some life-affirming force that lies beneath, gives source to, and transcends it all, and which can be intuited via Logos to we who are humble enough to listen to one another and look for opportunities to aspire toward Goodness, Beauty, and Truth.

• I don't have much to say about what happens if and when we fail — I can't make sense of destruction, evil, or suffering, other than that my psyche is affected by them such that they compel me to seek Better. But I'm not going to make a metaphysical claim about that. That said, that reality (of suffering, and the intuition which arises from me in its wake) gives me heart and intuition that there is something to aspire toward even when things seem impossible to my limited cognition.

An (Unintentional) Experiment

I’ve had the misfortune throughout life to experience suicidal ideation from time to time. Worse, I’ve had issues with alcohol abuse and dependency. Even worse, I’ve been on Facebook and Twitter when drunk and experiencing suicidal ideation. Even more worse, I’ve posted to the feed messages which intimated these goings-on.

Better, these mistakes have caused me to witness strangers’ outpourings of concern. There is an instinctive tendency for sentient beings to go out of their way to offer assistance when another is at seeming risk of demise. This is not the only human response. Sometimes, human response is the converse (or inverse?!) of this. That said, this is often the response, if only by a few who take that line of being into consideration. The fact that these few exist is an emblem.

We see the same thing in the “rest” of the “natural” world. We can start with chimps and bonobos.

Community of the Unknown

It is not impossible that, post-extinction, our remains might serve as a helpful site of research for beings outside of our immediate social group (conventionally called, banefully, “aliens”) much in the way that, at age 19, I had ejected from my social sphere via my father’s econ to spend time dirtying my toes with the dust of ash and seeing the good people of Pompeii preserved.

“sober" (12th century), from Latin sobrius "not drunk, temperate, moderate, sensible," from a variant of se- "without" (see se-) + ebrius "drunk," which is of unknown origin. — etymonline.com

On Friday, I watched an old episode of Norm Macdonald Live hosting Marc Maron. We know that Maron has had his own history with drug and alcohol abuse, and Norm worked that into his questioning. He also used the topic to tease straight man Adam Eaget, as he is wont to do.

Macdonald, a savvy jester, is known for having a gag ready at all times, and often will be two or three steps ahead of his conversant, ready to walk them into some kind of trap where they’ll wind up the butt of his joke.

For some reason he didn’t do this with Maron.

It might have been because Maron is quite obviously a very self-conscious person. Macdonald is the type who is compassionate, intelligent, and empathetic enough to see that the anger expressed by this addict-in-recovery is in part due to constant self-criticism. Norm didn’t really tease him at all until the very end of the show — and when that time came around, it was done simply by giving him silly jokes to read.

We wonder how addiction has touched Norm in his personal life. I have some theories, but they are pure conjecture. One thing I know for sure is that Adam Eget has had his struggles with drugs and alcohol, and Norm brings this up in this very episode — partly in order to provoke an exchange between his guest and co-host.

This exchange was fine enough (not particularly revealing), but something Norm said in passing rather intrigued me. Rather than using the word “sober,” Norm instead used the word “clear.” “You’re clear now, aren’t you?” he asked Maron. “Eget was clear for a while but he went back out.”

This reminded me of a time when I was running a Recovery Dharma meeting, and one of our members also chose against using the word “sober.” This gentleman didn’t have an alternative for it, but he seemed to be against the dour associations the word “sober” can carry. To be “sober” for him was to be boring, stiff, uninteresting.

I am of three minds, “like a tree in which there are three blackbirds.” On the one hand, I really like the word “clear” as an alternative. A great deal of ambient static has been removed by my abstention from sousing the house floor. Additionally, I like this idea that one can still lead a life of mystical inspiration free from mind-destroying toxins. One can be in this sense, both clear and drunk — but drunk on life and its delights. Little Richard once said he was “High on Jesus.”

But I also know that Moderation/Temperance/Balance/σωφροσύνη, Sōphrosýnē is a cardinal virtue, and contributes to Eudaimonia. Being a wild and crazy guy is good in certain circumstances but, as Margaret Cho’s mother taught her, “You have to have ass in moderation. You cannot have ass all the time, because then it’s not special.”

Furthermore, the actual word “sober” just means “not drunk (on alcohol).” What’s wrong with that? I think that the negative connotation, the one my friend is afraid of, is probably leftover residue from the push to repeal the 18th Amendment. But whether that stigmatization of sober people is fair, accurate, or helpful could be a very fruitful debate. We don’t seem to have a shortage of knee-jerk passion in this country and I, for one, wouldn’t mind seeing the needle shift a little more toward Reason.

Either way, I like the word “clear.” Whether I’m sober or not, I’m going to play around with it.

Sophrosyne does not have to entail boredom. Vervaeke talks about it more in terms of being desirous of the appropriate things. And though, in our time, the word “stoic” is often used to mean “stone-like” and “emotionless,” this, too, is a pejorative attributed to it after the fact. The Stoics themselves were not boring at all. They simply knew that emotions could become uncontrollable, and so they had exercises to prevent the negative consequences and preserve their clarity.

Without clarity, Wisdom seems absurd. Or, at least, it seems impossible. That said, Wisdom is always impossible, although it's essential to strive for it.

Whether I'm sober or not remains to be seen. I certainly like to sing, dance, and play raucous music. And a lot of my religious practices probably seem flat stupid to others.

At the risk of ending on a cliche, it is what it is. At least I'm clear on the nature of the problem.

And with that, Cheers.

Aaron

I find the idea useful, if not promising, and I would like to share it here:

Addiction is not a disease. It is a (brain) injury.

The disease model has always been problematic. Addiction does not behave like diabetes, cancer, or tuberculosis.

It does, however, behave like an injury in several ways1. What addiction basically is is a re-wiring of the brain due to a behavior or consumption of a substance. If the individual is predisposed to be hijacked (which comes in the form of a hybrid between genetics and environment, nature and nurture) the new jostling of chemicals such as dopamine teach the brain that this new substance or behavior are *exactly what it’s looking for*.

I consider this rewiring to be a brain injury. Like an injury in sports, the behavior led to a muscle being seriously damaged, and continuing to play the sport without healing that harm will aggravate it and cause further decay. In this case, however, there’s no real way to ultimately heal the injury. It will effectively always be there. Refraining from the behavior for long enough will allow the organ to more or less function properly in daily use, but a return to the behavior will tear the tissue and cause the hurt to flare up insufferably — and worse than it’s ever been before.

I’m certain there is a fair amount of quibbling which could go into the analysis, and I welcome your comments! That said, I consider myself to be in retirement from the drinking game and, honestly, there’s a lot I can do in my old age which is frankly more interesting and, in significant ways, more pleasurable.

It’s been great writing for all of you. I know that this is a short post. I’m one day away from completing a copy-writing course which is bringing me a lot of hope and pleasure. Because of this (and with all of the other social media work I’m doing — including on LinkedIn), I’m just the teensiest little bit taxed.

Thanks for everything, and enjoy the United States’ birthday this weekend!

Amiably,

Aaron

According to John Vervaeke, there are at least four ways in which we come into knowledge.

We’re all aware of the Propositional — the statement and understanding of facts. (Ie. “A dog is a [typically] quadrupedal mammal.”)

But that’s only one way of knowing. And while it’s very important, it greatly lacks significant dimensions.

Our Perspectival knowing teaches us how dogs and people interact with one another. What does it mean to “own” a dog, or to be “rescued” by one? (And how do dogs, in different contexts, interact with cats or other mammals? Observe the dog park.)

Our Procedural knowing ingrains in us an understanding of how dogs behave and respond to various motivations, as we “train” them and feed them, walk them, and care for them.

And our Participatory knowing puts us in that mysterious union with the dog, creating a “relationship.” In this, we can experience “Love” of various sorts. Mystery, wonder, awe, reverence, and grace are likely to ensue.

This is what it means to be a Being in the World. We are much more than brains interpreting data. Indeed, our very internal systems exhibit these four types of knowing as they interact to form the process which is “Us.”

Buy Me a Coffee?

Which brings me to a hobby horse of mine: understanding AA. I’ve had great success in benefitting from AA (especially when I combine it with Buddhist philosophy). But I have also had a lot of trouble with it.

Observe the following short: John Goodman is Only Sober One Day at a Time.

Notice what Mr. Goodman has to do with respect to the Propositions of AA: have faith in them. That is, rather than focusing on the logic or truth claims about the propositions, he simply takes them for granted. Doing this allows him to situate himself in the perspective of being “an alcoholic in recovery,” the procedure of “living one day at a time” and avoiding drinking, and participating in the culture of sobriety to gain personal benefit by benefitting others.

Therefore, for any of you out there who might think that AA has some fatal logical flaws in its language (and the Big Book may seem to be rife with them), consider these other types of knowledge which it bestows. It is my belief that AA could potentially help more people were this type of thinking to be promoted. (Of course, it would also help if AA put out a new book with more contemporary language.)

Similarly SMART Recovery has a few things to learn as well. It is beautiful that this organization has transformed REBT into a logically sound methodology for achieving and maintaining sobriety.

But it’s important to know that this is not the only way in which SMART works. It also functions at the other levels of knowing by sharing comradery at meetings, calling individuals to become meeting leaders, and creating social networks that allow for more “rationally minded” folk to find support despite their aversion to AA.

That said, I do not think that the two programs are in opposition and, if anything, I believe that all four types of knowing can be engaged in the interaction and counterpoint between the two.

If AA seems like a “leap of faith,” it’s good to know that there is science behind it — even if that science doesn’t include trustworthy studies. And if SMART seems like it’s too technical, you can rest easily knowing that it has unstated dimensions.

A dog may merely seem like a dog until one realizes just how much deep dimensionality goes into its Being. Accepting that is perhaps the first step in successful Uncovery.

Kate Bee of The Sober School believes, rightly, that “Sobriety should be a lifestyle upgrade.”

She has had success in abstaining from alcohol herself, and offers individualized coaching for women who are struggling with the ability to cease drinking.

In this video, she makes a number of good points about the trouble of labeling oneself as an “Alcoholic.” I agreed with everything she said, although I also thought it was worth noting that the term does serve a purpose, and has a history. I did my best to clarify this in my response below.

Thanks so much for your channel and emails! I must say I wholly agree with every thing you said in this talk. However, a little gentle clarification about the nature of the term in the way in which it evolved. It may no longer be that the old recovery model is necessary *now* in a world where addiction / recovery has gained a lot more scientific and medical attention, sobriety culture has become popular among some, and people feel that they can talk about the issue publicly (as you do so wonderfully!).

The term in the subculture you mention evolved in a time when, generally, people with destructive drinking were generally seen as outcasts and inferiors. Even today, some people who struggle with this are judged by friends, family, and employers for their behavior, rather than compassionately ushered into to a treatment modality. In this context, there is something about being in an ostensibly anonymous group (although that's a slippery concept) and immediately identifying with the group as one who shares a specific malady. The message, I think, is supposed to be "You are not alone. We're all struggling with this, and we can relate to one another in a way in which others can not relate to us." Additionally, I think there's also some suggestion of a submission or confession of one's ego in adopting the mantle — to say "I'm not in denial about my problem."

Again, I wholeheartedly agree with everything you said. There are a number of assumptions made by that group which can be easily contradicted with Logic and analysis, but which function reasonably well nevertheless *for those who are willing to participate in the subculture*. If you are willing, you will be rewarded for the effort via camaraderie and support. You will also have access to the benefits of Perspectival, Procedural, and Participatory knowledge, as opposed to only the Propositional -- which is not nothing. Indeed, for some it is a lifeline.

All best, and keep up the good work!

Aaron