Your Paranoia Is Your God

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Many a Conspiracy Theorist claims to be religious, but I think they’re not honest about who their real God is.

As my regular readers know I have a fascination with Conspiracy Theories. This is both because I’m interested in how people work, and because as we’ve seen they’re incredibly goddamn dangerous. Honestly the way we treat Conspiracy Theorists as a point of humor misses how some of them turn very deadly individually or in groups.

As I watch these potentially dangerous people, I’ve seen how their ideas can become all-consuming. I’ve noted elsewhere that Conspiracy Theory is a kind of creative skill, an unhealthy form of writing and imagination. I suppose it has to be that way so it can encompass everything you need to an eternal yes-anding to reality.

After all, your Theory has to explain everything. Plus you can’t let someone one-up on you, especially if you want to get internet clicks and sell supplements. A Conspiracy Theory is a comittment.

These Conspiracy Theories almost inevitably include religion because you have to. You have to cover it all, so deities, Satan, angels, etc. all have to become part of it. Most Conspiracy theorists remind me of the ever one-upping that dooms movies and TV shows to raise the stakes ridiculously to keep going before their inevitable collapse. The theory must be fed.

Watching this constant adaption, this sacrifice to the Theory, reminds me of what I said early about Monotheism being so unstable it has to evangelize and spread to avoid questions. Thus I can safely say that Conspiracy Theories are just a form of monotheism.

Think about it. Conspiracists are beholden to the Great Conspiracy. The Conspiracy defines them. The Conspiracy must be supported. For many The Conspiracy is a form of profit or career, the very essence of what they do. The Conspiracy Theory is the most important thing in their life – in short, their god.

And it has to be monotheism. The Conspiracy Theorist by definition worships an all-encompassing idea. Any different idea is incorporated or is declared falsehood and the enemy. To not do so is to risk breaking your god – you may dress it up in cosplay as some other god, but it’s yours and it’s just as broken as you are.

Even if the Conspiracy Theorist is a pure grifter, they still have to keep putting time in on the Theory as it’s always under challenge. It’s still their god even if they don’t believe it. Plus there’s always the risk they start believing or have to start believing.

Whatever deity they say they worship, The Conspiracy Theorist’s real god is The Theory.

This “monotheism model” is a tool I find useful to understand Conspiracy Theorists. They’re on a religious crusade no matter what. They have to be. They have to maintain this god, the god is all they have. No wonder they seem so anxious to kill people for their god.

It doesn’t make me feel any safer. If anything I feel kind of worse. But I feel I have a better grasp of what to worry about.

-Xenofact

Good for the Spirit, Good for the Mind

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As I write this there’s a huge, understandable panic that AI is being used by students so much they don’t know how to read and analyze it. If you are reading this in a future years removed from this essay, I hope you live in a world where AI isn’t such a concern, and you’reNOTin some post-apocalyptic disaster.

Anyway, whatever your chronological state, here in 2025 it’s been quite a concern. If you let AI write for you, analyze for you, etc. you are essentially outsourcing your thinking and your humanity. You will not develop skills you need to read books and understand things, and the skills you do have will decay.

This in turn made me think about spiritual and philosophical writing and how it trains you to read, analyze and understand. For the sake of brevity to encompass such things for self-development I shall call them spiritual works here.

When we sit down with a spiritual work we are attempting to contemplate, grow, and understand some very serious issues. We bring to it a desire to understand and grow, to engage with the work. The attitude of becoming involved in the work is there at the start.

In turn, the engagement is needed.

Spiritual works are about deep issues, and you will find yourself pausing to contemplate and analyze. We’ve all experienced moments where a paragraph or a page can hold our attention for a half hour. In spiritual works, you may find yourself going over something word by word just thinking what it means.

Spiritual works often use symbolism and metaphor as that may be easy to communicate complex truths, represent the otherwise indescribable, or lead you around a bit to help you learn. Symbolism also helps you think, how the symbols work together, what they really mean, and so on. Again, you are engaged with the work, connected to it.

Finally, many spiritual works are often grounded in a place, a person, an experience, a lineage, etc. To engage with spiritual work is to engage with much more than a book or a menial or a series of poems – it’s to learn about who produced it and the situation that led to it. One small book can lead you to a world of context – and a greater point of view.

Reading a good spiritual work teaches you to read, analyze, understand. A person with an interest about such issues can, in time, give themselves ersatz literary training. I once read a book called DIY MFA about how a person can read and write and analyze to gain similar experiences to getting an MFA – and that feels very familiar in spiritual writing.

So in a world of AI writing and AI reading, remember our spiritual pursuits. Sitting down with a book on philosophy or meditation or metaphysics isn’t just enriching morally or spiritually – it’s enriching literately. Your wrestling with ethics or breath meditation or divinities also helps you learn to read, analyze, and understand.

Just another reason to do it, I suppose.

-Xenofact

There I Sit In Mistrust

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When I meditate, I realize sometimes how much of our identity is not trusting ourselves.

As noted (and repeated for newcomers) I do a watch-a-slow-even-breath meditation, refining it over time to be as slow and even as possible. It’s derived from Taoist practices (especially my over-mentioned Secret of the Golden Flower), both the breathing and larger practices and concepts such as Yin and Yang or mindful “warm attention.” It’s simple, and as anyone who practices meditation knows, that simplicity is always deceptive because when you start meditating things happen and come to the surface.

Including realizations about identity.

Meditation is a practice that has you sitting there with yourself, doing your thing, and often screwing up, having unexpected insights, and often both. You may realize how distractable you are, or have sudden memories surge to the surface – and good texts will give you advice on such things. I think that these “problems” aren’t problems, but educational opportunities, and often contemplate them.

One thing that I noticed is how much of our identity is being against ourselves. Enough I want to share.

When you meditate, it’s easy to get upset with your distractions or that you can’t do things right. You try to push down what’s in your mind or isolate feelings you don’t want to deal with. There you are, trying to meditate and focus and you’re also breaking yourself up, maybe to the point that you’re angry with yourself. Ever had a meditation session where you feel like you’re in a wrestling match?

But is that any different from how we normally are? How many of us berate ourselves for a choice? How many times a day do you worry that you did something wrong or aren’t a good person? How often do you try to cut off pieces of your own mind? I’m sure you have plenty of experiences like that – almost certain you had a few the very day you read this

It’s bizarre, when you look at it. So much of our identity is not being turned against ourselves. We identify with battling against an obsession. We constantly berate ourselves internally for a behavior we just keep doing. How much of us is not liking us? And is this self-flagellation doing us any good?

(Answer: no).

Realizing how much of our identity can be self-hatred was a useful insight for me in my meditations. Once you see it, you can be aware of it and maybe address it. Or you could berate yourself for it and further the problem, but let’s not do that.

I find that the lessons of meditation come to the fore here too. Meditation is about sitting and doing, being there, doing changing or breathing or whatever and moving on. Just because you have a thought you don’t like doesn’t mean you have to get angry. Just because you had a bad idea doesn’t mean you act on it. What arises is part of the experience and you choose what you do, but it’s all you.

There’s no reason to hate yourself. You’re whoever you are now – and whoever makes the choice on what to do next. You can also take the time to analyze how you got where you are – that’s fine, you’re who you are, and whoever got you here to realize you may have some self-loathing.

It’s amazing what meditation can do when you’re sitting there not doing much. Kudos to all those over the aeons who taught us and keep teaching us.

-Xenofact