The Weirdness of Nonduality #2: Can I Die


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My most recent Medium story begins:

“Inevitable to life is death and not inevitable to death is life.”

— Jamaica Kincaid

Is Kincaid right? Is death inevitable for those stamped with the gift of life?

For don’t we hold these truths about the human condition to be self-evident: that each of us is a human being; that each human being was born and shall die; that time in general and that each person’s time on this planet in particular is finite in nature; that most probably when the body perishes so too does consciousness; and that most probably there is nothing more to this sentient, intelligent life after the perishing of this body and the final darkening of this consciousness? We are enclosed by these truths, it seems.

Because of these apparently self-evident truths about the human condition, my death can hardly be anything but shockingly scary to me. Unless, that is, I seek consolation by some intellectual means or another.

You can read the rest of the story here.

The Weirdness of Nonduality #1: Who Are You?

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I story I published in Medium begins:

A: How are you?

[B is a sensible man with close-cropped hair and wearing a white collar shirt]: Who is it that asks, “How are you?”

A: A. I think you remember me.

B:I do. And who are you, A?

A[slightly annoyed]: “Who am I?” Come on now, what do you mean: “Who am I?” I’m right here; I’m me!

B: I know your name and I do remember you, A. But whatare you? What is it that goes by the name “A”?

You can read the rest of the story here.

Great Mystery #3: At Ry Hojskole


“Great Mystery #3: At Ry Hojskole” was a live performance held at Ry Hojskole in Denmark on Tuesday, April 23, 2019.

Program Notes

Start listening at 6:35.


Ry, Denmark (students)
Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA (me)

The Opening Monologue

I’m a philosopher, and tonight’s performance will be philosophical, artistic, and perhaps even a bit mysterious.

You see you were born into a mystery. When you were born, you didn’t know you would be born into this. Neither did the rest of us. Nor did anyone living before us or since.

Or perhaps you weren’t born into a mystery after all because, perhaps, you weren’t even born. And therefore, perhaps, it is only the mystery–still, eternal, luminous–that ever is.

The mystery has no name or face and cannot be told. It can only be neglected, overlooked, forgotten, as our culture does, or else, as we seek to do today, it may reveal an aspect of itself to the eyes of contemplation.

Seen with the eyes of contemplation, life itself may reveal itself as mystery: still, eternal, luminous.