We are a process enmeshed within regions or modules in the brain. We do not choose what arises, or, which module “speaks up”. That decision is concealed — a decision we can never see or control. Instead, we “experience” the process of responding to what arises. We are the feeling-and-reasoning…

I find it helpful rather than to say, there is no self, to understand my existence as consciousness itself, enmeshed WITHIN a biological system, as opposed to OWNING one, with complete visibility and control. The latter being empirically untrue — further falsified by science. The mind and body are allies…

No human life outruns the sentence: I feel alone. But guess what? You shouldn’t outrun it. You should give it a big ol’ hug. It’s the greatest hug one can possibly experience. Everyone is alone. Always! Even in togetherness, we are fundamentally alone. No proximity, physical or psychological, will ever…

Words, at MOST, are a scintilla of human experience. Other forms of expression compel us in mysterious and powerful ways. The ART! series features gems worth experiencing. When You’re Ugly I fucking love everything about these humans and this video. Ever judicious with f bombs, but they blew that door open, so…

20 unfinished essays — some will be published — others will never escape the Darwinian gravity of “draft”. 50 books I’d love to read, which will invariably lead to 100 more. Podcasts that need a second listen. Places I want to travel. Photos I need to edit. People I need…

Not a Buddhist, nor evangelizing it. I AM, however, a sincere admirer and explorer of its ideas. And if Buddhism were somehow wiped away from the human record tonight, I am convinced something like it would inevitably return. And whatever that thing was — Frankism by some luminary named Frank…

Remember baby internet? An era with no platforms — simply pages. Back in ’96, every page was a raft that some soul had to fashion with their own hands. The sticks and rope were html and images. Each raft was charming, even if hokey, you could respect the effort and…

Are you Sarah, or are you Tom?

My father would love nothing more than to finish one last half-marathon. Last year at 70, shortly after our last run together, his hip started bothering him. Was he running too much? Was it simply old age? Either way, after taking four months off to give himself a rest, and…