On Psychedelics And The Orange Meme

Not long ago, another man living in New York, this one in his mid-50s and working in investment banking, took a trip upstate on one Friday. This man, who’s pretty polymathic, is a scientific rationalist, mostly. He was to be away for three days at an event where psychedelics would be taken on Saturday, and this experience would be facilitated by practitioners who would be playing music throughout the day.

While speaking with me afterward, he said, “I cannot say that there is nothing.” He doesn’t yet want to say that there is definitely more to reality than science and math can describe, yet he’s less willing to take a hard rationalist stance after this experience. There might be something (or Something), which is decidedly not a thing.

Fair enough. Let’s be measured to start off with. Let’s not fly off the handle.

This, frankly, is all I need to get the next philosophical inquiry underway. One’s certainties, especially as they relate to the orange meme (scientific rationalism) or the green meme (postmodern relativism plus cultural studies), must be subjected to great doubt. But not the kind of doubt that comes through mere intellectualizing. Not at all. It must be the kind of doubt that is born thickly of experience and therefore, to the one in the midst of it, is undeniable. To this one, there emerges a new softness and, provided it’s held onto, a desire to know.

I ask you, reader, Can you find that crack within yourself? Can you find that new softness, that place where your certainties melt into liquid wonder? If so, you would do well to illumine its vague shape, the vague shape of that, of that nearly unspeakable not-nothing, lest you betray it–and yourself–by forgetting it and, worse, by forgetting that you forgot it. No, I say to you now: Remember! Remember this experience! And by remembering it, let it me precisely what guides the rest of your life.

To remember it is, properly understood, to let it animate all of you henceforth.


The Fear of Death, The Meaning Crisis, And The Orange Meme

I recently had a philosophical conversation with a lovely and intelligent man, someone I’m quite fond of, someone who’s a co-founder living in New York. For quite a while, he’s been afraid of his own death and of the death of those he loves.

The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein once wrote, “A picture held us captive. And we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorably.” We shall see about not being able to get out of it–but what is that picture in this case?

This man believes that what Ken Wilber calls the “orange meme” is wholly true. By the “orange meme,” Wilber means the post-enlightenment picture of science and of scientific rationality, a picture that is twinned with secularism. Heidegger would have called it the “age of the technological world-picture.” Hence, this man thinks that we have evolved according to natural selection and hence live, singularly and collectively, without any greater purpose (no grand Teleology); science provides us, so far as we know, with the best models of reality; we have no reason, after Darwin and evidently too after Freud, to think that we’re special or extraordinary creatures (we are a “weedy species” as Elizabeth Kolbert puts it in The Sixth Extinction). The modern world, so understood, has been thoroughly disenchanted.

I submit that it is this picture that must, as it already has, give rise to nihilism and the fear of death in us secular moderns. This man takes the existentialists’ call to courage (as well as the aesthetic claims of love and beauty) in the face of a meaningless universe to be about all we’ve got. This is, let’s say, a modernist or high modernist version of the orange meme. And yet. And yet. He asks, What is the point if there is no purpose? If time is scarce, my time limited, what if I have ‘used’ it ‘incorrectly’?

I suggest, then as now, that the following assumptions are indeed scary: That one is a self and that self just is this perishable mind-body composite. That this self is born and that it shall die. That there is nothing–no greater reality–beyond what is perceivable or conceivable (that’s Nisargadatta’s lingo) by this self. That, therefore, secularism–the “immanent frame” with a “closed spin” (Charles Taylor)–is true. That time, as it’s experienced by the self, is finite, fleeting, and scarce and cannot be otherwise. That one’s life is measured by what this self has accomplished before his days are numbered. That this self is a Doer, whose doings may be enough that he’s able to feel, before his death, that he has no “unfinished business.”

What I appreciate about Wilber’s view is that the orange meme is not entirely untrue. Rather, it is but “partially true.” And if it is but partially true, then it shouldn’t be discarded but should be “transcended and included.”

What is that which makes possible transcending while including? It is what I call the twin paths: the Way of Loss and the Way of Wonderment. Both slice open this picture, and others.

My TEDxABQ Talk Transcript

In September 2018, about a year ago now, I gave a TEDxABQ talk on Total Work. The organization’s posting the videos on YouTube has been delayed time and again. Since I’m not sure, at this point, whether they will be released, I thought it could make sense to include a copy of the talk transcript here. I do so below. I hope you find it edifying.

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I. SCIENCE FICTION: Work Taking Over The World

Total Work Space

Imagine that work had taken over the world. Then would it be the center around which the rest of human life turned. Then everything else—the games once played, the songs once sung, the loves long fulfilled—would first come to resemble and thereafter to become work. And then there would come a time, itself largely unobserved, when the many worlds that had existed before work took over the world would vanish completely from cultural memory.

And how, in this world of total work, would people speak and think and act? Everywhere they looked they would see the pre-employed, the employed, the post-employed, and the unemployed, with no one uncounted in this census. Everywhere they would laud and love work, opening their eyes to tasks and closing them only to sleep. And everywhere an ethos of hard work would be championed as the key to happiness and success, laziness being the greatest vice.

In this world, eating, excreting, exercising, meditating, and resting would all be conducive to good health, which would, in turn, be conducive to being more and more productive. In this world, no one would drink too much and everyone would live indefinitely long. To be sure, off in some quaint corners, rumors would occasionally spread about death or suicide from overwork, but such sweet melodies would rightly be regarded as praise songs for the ultimate sacrifice. In all corners of the world, therefore, people would act with the sole intention of fulfilling total work’s deepest longing: to see itself fully realized.

This world, it turns out, is not a work of science fiction; it is unmistakably close to our own.

II. TOTAL WORK: A Prophecy Come True


It is West Germany, 1947. The country, now divided in two, has been shattered by war, with nearly 80% of the buildings in major cities having been destroyed by allied forces. The West German people, therefore, are very, very busy. They have not only a country but also lives to rebuild.

In this context, a lesser known German philosopher named Josef Pieper is sending his fellow citizens a message. He is urging them not to put their heads down and get back to work immediately but rather to stand back and reflect upon themselves and upon the situation they find themselves in. His book, Leisure: The Basis of Culture, is published one year later in 1948 and is then summarily forgotten.

And what dangerous message did this strange book contain? Nothing less than a prophecy of a future in which total work would transform all human beings into Workers and nothing else while transforming all aspects of life into work.

His prophesy has since come true: in the twenty-first century, we believe that we are all, and only, Workers.

III. HISTORY: From Curse to Culture-wide Burnout

Cultural Madness

Yet this, I say, is cultural madness. But then how did we get here? How did work take over the world? 

The story I mean to tell consists of 4 chapters. In first chapter, I’ll discuss the ancient Greek slave society; in second, the medieval tripartite society; in third, our Protestant heritage; and in the final chapter, our cultural exhaustion.

Chapter 1—Ancient Greeks: The Ancient Greeks came up with two insights relevant to our inquiry. The first was that labor, insofar as it tied one to the interminable needs of the body, was itself a kind of enslavement. The second was that freedom–both political and contemplative–was a supreme good. And so, they invented a slave society so that the many–slaves–could free up the few–the aristocrats–who could then pursue a life devoted to politics and contemplation. 

Chapter 2—Medievals: What needs to be underscored about the medieval tripartite society is that it was rank-ordered from top to bottom. On the top were clerics, or those who prayed, as well as aristocrats, or those who fought, while on the very bottom were peasants, or those who worked the fields. Theirs must have been lives of “toil and trouble.” For the Greeks, then, work was ignoble, servile, contemptible, a curse. And for medievals, work was penance for Original Sin. 

Chapter 3—Protestants: But then something astonishing happens as we enter the modern period. Luther and especially Calvin end up turning the value of work on its head. Truly, after the Protestant Reformation, our ideas about work would never be the same. 

Henceforth work would be exalted: a duty for all of us, a responsibility for each of us, the primary source of ultimate fulfillment in life, and perhaps even the way in which we leave our lasting stamp on this world. In time, work would become the key to happiness, meaning, and pretty much everything.

Chapter 4—Us: Yet this period in which work was exalted is now being eclipsed by a new kind of cultural exhaustion. For Nietzsche, a culture becomes decadent when it gets stuck in worn-out values while being unable to create new ones for itself. 

By now, total work has expanded into nearly every human domain. And now in its finale, it is birthing a civilization spiritually exhausted. 

This, then, is the road we have traveled: for the longest time, work was a curse; then a necessary evil; then—and this almost miraculously—an object of exaltation. Only now has work delivered us into a culture-wide burnout.

We are burned out and we can go no further. 

IV. THE SABBATH: Be Still and Find Yourself


Perhaps the most radical act you can perform today is to observe the Sabbath, that is, a day of complete rest. A day not to “relax,” not to “recharge,” not to “restore” yourself so that you can engage all the more in work the following days and months and eons but rather a day devoted entirely to the contemplation of why you’re here. 

All the Abrahamic faiths observe a day of rest for its own sake as do Hindus, Buddhists, and many indigenous peoples. Secular culture, however, does not because it cannot. Since its idol is work, it can do no more than give us weekends, vacations, and Labor Days, all of which serve as “downtime” to be used for “unwinding” and “restoring” before we resume the ceaseless busyness of our workaday existence. And so, I ask you, “Might we have lost some of the wisdom that these other traditions know and know so well?” 

Listen very closely to the Jewish theologian Abraham Heschel as he speaks of the essence of the Sabbath: “The Sabbath is not [he writes] for the sake of the weekdays; the weekdays are for the sake of the Sabbath. It is not [he goes on] an interlude but the climax of living.”

Summing up the main conclusion of Josef Pieper’s book on leisure, the philosopher Roger Scruton once joked, “Don’t just do something; stand there!” And so, I say to all of us: may we all stand there or sit here and thereby find out who we really are. 

Thank you.

‘No One Thing Can Do It All’: On The Limits Of Spirituality

I used to think that philosophy as a way of life could do it all. Later on, I was disabused of this illusion. Then I thought that contemplative philosophy was in the service of spirituality and that, together, they would suffice. I still believe the former claim but not the latter, and now I see that even those two together cannot do it all.

To illustrate this point, consider a short excerpt (slightly edited) from Stephen Wolinsky’s The Beginner’s Guide to Quantum Psychology (2000):

The question in psycho-spiritual circles is, “Why is all of this good stuff, which I experience in meditation, experienced only for that moment? Why isn’t it sustained and stabilized?”

“I” used to meditate for three-to-five hours a day for twelve–thirteen years. And what happened was, I’d sit down at about 6 AM—in India I did it at 3 AM—and after a period of time, everything got quiet, and all of a sudden this beautiful emptiness would open up and I would experience nothingness.

Then, I would get up to go to work, and within a few minutes my life and all of its problems would come rushing back. It could be my girlfriend calling me, it could be the mortgage payment that was due. It was always something. So all of a sudden, my stuff comes back. I may be a little more detached from it because of my meditating, but it definitely comes back.

So I would go to see my clients. In New Mexico, I would work from 11 AM to 4:30 PM. At 5:30 I would sit again for meditation. Soon there would be a quiet SPACIOUSNESS. But the same thing would happen once I was out of meditation. My girlfriend would tell me about some problem and all my stuff would come back.

Well, the reason it came back was because I had been given misinformation. Meditation is extremely good for giving you a taste of ESSENCE, I AM, VOID, etc. But it has nothing whatever to do with, and will not handle, your external, or your psycho-emotional stuff.

This was not apparent to me because I had been told that meditation would do it all. I began to discover, that it wouldn’t and couldn’t do it all. No one thing can do it all. (112-13)

I know exactly what he means.

Related Further Reading

Taggart, “Why The Therapeutic Needs The Spiritual And Vice Versa And Why They Both Need Philosophy”

Taggart, “DIY Ecology Of Practices Or Iterative Best Practices?”

My Musing Mind Podcast Interview: “Finding a New Center”

I recently spoke with Oshan Jarow on his Musing Mind Podcast. What’s lovely about his podcast is that its focus is on the connection between worldly questions (those of economics, politics, and culture) and contemplative questions (those having to do with meditation, consciousness, and so on).

You can listen to the interview here. Below, I include his write-up on me. More show notes, references, and so on are available by following the link I just provided.

Musing Mind Podcast

Oshan writes:

Andrew Taggart is a nomadic philosopher and contemplative currently writing about ‘Total Work’, where the paradigm of work is becoming the central mechanism of our identities.

Andrew wrote an essay for Aeon Magazine on the subject. In our conversation, we dig into the relationship between Total Work and postmodernism, the shortcomings of radical leftists in considering what constitutes ‘the good life’ beyond material subsistence, his experience with meditation, consciousness, and various methods – from education to psycho-technologies – for moving beyond nihilism.

Andrew’s found a way to build a life around a gift economy, so he offers a unique perspective on what it’s like to participate in alternative economic arrangements. Speaking with him was a delight, as the depth of both his contemplative practice and philosophical study swirl together into a really eloquent, generous, and fascinating human.