Xenofact

A-holes In The Stacks

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A-holes In The Stacks

I love used bookstores, odd bookstores, and odd used bookstores. If you’ve read any of my writings, you know this. If not, well, hello, you must be new here – I’m Xenofact and I like bookstores.

One of the best thing about a good bookstore – and sometimes even more so a used one – is the amount of authors you encounter. Looking for one book leads to another, to another, and to another – often ones you didn’t expect to look for. A detour down a mysterious set of shelves can take you to a wonderland of discoveries. Then of course there’s whatever the store stocks that fits the tastes of the proprietors, another peek into the larger world.

Bookstores, the really good ones, are places of discovery. Even if you enter with a plan, you usually leave with something else.

However, you’ll also encounter works by authors that are, let’s be honest, a-holes. I’m not talking “oh they’re jerks,” I’m talking grifters, conspiritualists, abusive cult leaders, and so on. Since I usually haunt religion, philosophy, and science areas I probably see a lot more of this.

(It’s probably good I don’t go to the business section after these or I’d just end up in the fetal position.)

There’s something incredibly depressing to see a giant book by some grifting schemer who has only avoided jail as not enough of their cult has turned on him. It’s disturbing to see books by people replacing vaccines with quantum woo next to books on actual healthy practices. A bookstore, as thrilling as it is, can be quite depressing when you look at specific stock and know “someone is selling this, someone wants to buy this.”

But that’s the world, isn’t it? There are people out there who are exploitative – and some of them write books. Thank goodness there’s many good authors, past and present, writing actual, helpful stuff.

But that’s also discovery, what those stores allow. There’s a chance for surprise, for something new, even if you enter planning to get a specific book. Sometimes discovery is discovering something bad.

I suppose this is a time to remind ourselves to buy, read, promote, and give the good books, the ones that really help others out. There’s little use being impotently on the a-holes, we can just expose people to the good stuff.

And maybe when the a-holes get you down, enjoy the good stuff.

– Xenofact

The Tao of Health and Neuroses

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Let me cut to the chase – I’m a hypochondriac in that kind of “annoying worrying way.” You can guess COVID wasn’t a picnic for me, but let’s just say I also felt ahead of the curve. However I’ve also been working to address this as worrying about health too much really isn’t, well, healthy.

As of late, I’ve done a lot of “health maintenance” as assorted regular activities piled up in recent months. I had to catch up on my vaccines. I had a colonoscopy every five years as I’m an older gentleman and it’s good just in case. I’ve had some regular tests everyone goes through and just-in-case stuff.

The test part always gets on my nerves. You go in and give blood or get wired up or whatever and then after whatever indignities you go through you then wait for results. The waiting can be nerve wracking – I’m sure you’ve been there.

So as I waited for the last of my various accumulated tests, and of course worried, I speculated how I could handle this better. Something struck me from my studies of Taoism, meditation, and mysticism.

Good health does not come from just “being healthy.” It’s exercise and good attitude, appropriate food and activities, and of course checking relevant things like blood pressure or getting enough sleep. Good health is a kind of navigation.

The tests I take regularly (my doctor prefers to test early and often to prevent things) may be stressful but they’re ways to navigate to health. There’s no difference between sending blood to the lab and observing ideal conditions for good sleep – one just involves getting jabbed with needles by a very well-mannered medical professional.

Good health lies not just on practices, but checking on yourself. By acknowledging the possibility of ill health or less-than-ideal health, you then can practice good health. It’s very – and I hate to sound this tropey – Yin and Yang.

This further made me think about various Taoist energetic practices, how one cycles and balances energies. From the simple ones to the ones I would call “questionably elaborate” they treat the body as a system not a solid thing, aligning and guiding this process of being alive.

This re-envisioning made me feel at least somewhat better. Good health is based on the chance of bad health. It’s all a system, a kind of dialogue or navigation. These tests I was worried about were just part of the overall “Tao of Health.” Seeing how all these habits worked reminded me of the insights I’d have when meditating, seeing the “parts of myself.”

Everything turned out OK as the last of the data came in. Maybe next time I’m getting jabbed or whatever, I’ll remember these lessons.

(Note, if you do investigate Taoist health and energetic practice, get ready for a ride and to be skeptical. There’s some truly amazing stuff from over the centuries, some of which seems quite modern, and there’s also bizarre and dangerous bullshit. If you want to go beyond metaphors, do be careful.)

The Tenth Picture

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A lot of spiritual experiences give you a high. This isn’t a bad thing at all, but too often the sign gets mistaken for the destination

I’m not only talking the high from drugs some people take for spiritual or faux-spiritual reasons. It’s obvious that appropriately used substances, employed by informed people under proper tutelage, can lead to deep spiritual insights. It’s also obvious you can have such deep experiences from breathing, visualization, energy work, etc. These are deep, strange, powerful and also can get you high as hell for that moment.

And that high is not necessarily a bad thing. That is a sign that you’ve gotten something going on. You feel that high of your body relaxing in Quigong, the self-yet-not moment of cyclical breathing, or the psychedelic top-of-your-head-blows off of a drug or visualization trip. Something happened, and you have a powerful experience and often see and feel life differently.

However, I think a lot of people see the high as the goal. They want the sign of enlightenment, of achievement, of spiritual fulfillment – and to them that’s the rush of the therapeutic relaxation or some stunning vision. They want to own it by owning an experience.

I think this is why we see so many people falling under the spells of gurus, grifters, endless substance experiments, and shifting trends. They’re chasing the high or looking for a new one so they can once again “hold” that sense of spiritual enlightenment. But it’s just a senstion.

Spiritual highs are just roadsigns you’re onto something (and, in some cases, just on something even if it’s your own neurotransmitters). Something in your head and personality just shifted, got blown apart, or made connections. But the question is what you do next.

Plenty of seekers’ next step should be to ask if they just deluded themselves. But for many they had some authentic insight and that’s a chance to grow, not just find a new way to get high again.

What did you learn? How can you apply it? Does it help you understand yourself, others, and your teachers better. Where does the spiritual experience send you next? I mean even if you go to conventional therapy, good job, you learned something.

Spiritual experience should help you grow, not become a junkie.

I’m reminded of the famous Ten Ox-Herding pictures of Zen. They’re a lovely metaphor for meditation and spiritual practice based around seeking and taming a recalcitrant bovine. Eventually the trainer – the seeker – returns to society after many insights, helping others. He doesn’t leave the world or stay in his seeking, but returns a better person.

If your spiritual highs don’t help you become better, if they don’t someday lead you back to the bustling marketplace and busy town, then pause and take stock of yourself.

-Xenofact