Tag Archives: philosophy

Our Frames of Mind

              In the fifth game of the World Series, Toronto pitcher Trey Yesavage — a young man who has only been pitching in the major leagues for a few months — faced the most feared hitter in baseball, Shohei Ohtani:

Ohtani led off the bottom of the first inning with a comebacker. Yesavage bobbled the ball and then dropped it, but he had what you might call veteran poise, picking up the ball and throwing what Toronto manager John Schneider called “kind of a shovel pass” to first base for the out.  “The fact that he kind of shoveled it the way he did and kind of had a little smile on his face,” Schneider said, “it actually gives you a little bit of confidence that he’s in the right frame of mind.” (October 30, LA Times)

              What is the “right frame of mind” in this situation? It seems it’s being in a high-pressure situation, making a mistake, not losing your cool, remembering your purpose, and accomplishing your task – with “a little smile.”  Doing that demonstrated “veteran poise.”  Yesavage maintained that poise, set World Series pitching performance records that night, and helped his team win the game.

              This has got me thinking about the term, “frame of mind.”

              A picture frame is a structure we use to hold something we want to see well.  We choose a particular frame to highlight the photo or painting it will border. A good frame focuses our attention on what is important. 

A “frame of mind” is an attitude we use that helps us focus on who we want to be and what we want to accomplish.

              I’ve been thinking about “frames of mind” I have seen in action.

              I worked with a church custodian who always displayed a positive attitude no matter what the challenge might be.  One time I asked him how he did that.  He said he used to be a person who often complained.  But then he visited a pediatric oncology ward and saw children being treated for life-threatening illness. That day he decided he would never again let himself complain about everyday problems.  The experience helped shaped his frame of mind every day.

              Some years ago, I attended a special installation service for a new Catholic bishop. In his remarks, he said he had had polio when he was young, and though he had largely recovered, he was still falling occasionally.  “If you are with me when that happens,” he said, “…don’t become anxious… just extend your hand to me, help me to my feet, and we will go on.  And if, as your bishop, I make a mistake, don’t become anxious – just extend your hand to me, help me back to where I should be, and we will go on.” 

              At a conference last year at Westmont College, a group of staff members were interviewed about their jobs.  They were asked if they had any favorite Scripture verses to guide them in their work. A long-time student advisor cited 2 Corinthians 4:18: “…for we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen, for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”  When she began working with a student, that verse helped her focus not on her initial impressions but on what the student’s deepest concerns and hopes might be.

              I recently heard a presentation from a colleague who had been the chair of an academic department.  One of his responsibilities was to interview people being considered for teaching positions. He established a practice of meeting each candidate for breakfast at a particular restaurant.  While they were talking, he observed how the candidate treated the waiter and employees who came to the table: did the candidate demonstrate courtesy and respect, or did they act as if the employees didn’t matter?  He came to believe that this behavior would predict how the person would treat students and anyone of “lesser status.”  He would only recommend the people who showed respect. 

              Spiritual traditions and practices can remind us of how we can find deeper meaning in life and how we can best serve others, offering us “frames” for doing that well.

              What frame of mind we choose as we go through our day will shape how we experience each day and our effect on other people.  A good frame can help us keep our poise, perspective, and purpose. And when we make mistakes, it can empower us to maintain our composure and do our best to still get the job done – with a little smile.

Lead Image: “Person Carrying a Big Empty Frame Outdoors,” freepik.com

Are You an “Everyday Mystic?”

For centuries, a “mystic” was someone who had a rare and unique spiritual experience, different from what most of us would ever know.

This is reflected in the word itself: The term mystic is derived from the Greek noun “mystes,” which originally designated an initiate of a secret cult or mystery religion.   In Classical Greece and during the Hellenistic Age, the rites of the mystery religions were largely or wholly secret. The term” mystes” is itself derived from the verb “myein” (“to close,” especially the eyes or mouth) and signified a person who kept a secret.[i]

But in recent years, the term “everyday mystic” has come into use. Here’s one description:

An “everyday mystic” is someone who seeks or experiences spiritual depth and transcendence within ordinary daily life, rather than through withdrawal from the world or extreme ascetic practices.

The concept suggests that mystical experience—that sense of connection to something greater, moments of profound awareness, or spiritual insight—doesn’t require monasteries, retreats, or renouncing worldly responsibilities. Instead, everyday mystics find the sacred in mundane activities: washing dishes, walking to work, caring for children, or sitting in traffic.[ii]

I have known quite a few “everyday mystics.” They don’t try to be different or better than anyone else — they are simply doing something they feel called to do and, in the process, find a deep connection beyond and within themselves.  They don’t do it for money, or to prove their worth, or to puff up their ego. 

Some examples came to my mind:

  1. A physical therapist who told me there were times working with patients when his mind would become quiet and he would feel as if light was passing through him to the person he was treating.
  2. Farmers, gardeners and hikers who sense a silent and limitless bond with the earth and the mysterious processes which underly all life.
  3. Musicians who feel as if the music is playing through them.
  4. Grandparents when they behold their grandchildren.  They had loved their own children from the moment each child was born, but so much of parenting is about being a manager, behavior coach and the one person responsible for everything to do with the child. But then a grandchild appears and seeing them evokes a sense of pure wonder.
  5. Artists who get immersed in their process and end up creating something far beyond what they could have imagined when they started and don’t know how it happened.
  6. Mechanics who have an innate sense of what is wrong with a car and how to fix it with the least cost and effort, working in harmony with all the moving parts instead of simply using their will to fix something that is wrong.
  7. A young man who told me he was pitching for his college team and for a few innings the ball seemed to go exactly where he intended every time.  The experience passed and he never had it again.  He could not explain how it happened but has never forgotten what it felt like.
  8. Golfers who watch a ball rise and fall through the air with a grace and purpose that feels as if something more is present than a little ball being struck.
  9. Ocean swimmers who love the mystery of being on the surface of the limitless sea, and who feel deeply at home in salt water—perhaps sensing an unbroken thread of experience going back to our pre-human ancestors as well as our personal life as it began in the womb.
  10. People who know they are dying and “descend into the heart,” losing their fear and becoming open and observant towards everything around them.

Richard Rohr said, “For me, “mysticism” simply means experiential knowledge of spiritual things, as opposed to book knowledge, secondhand knowledge, or even church knowledge.”[iii]

Huston Smith said, “Most mystics do not want to read religious wisdom; they want to be it. A postcard of a beautiful lake is not a beautiful lake, and Sufis may be defined as those who dance in the lake.”[iv]

We can always be grateful when such moments come to us.

“Hands Cradling a Child’s Head,” Kathe Kollwitz, 1920

[i] https://www.britannica.com/topic/mysticism

[ii] https://claude.ai/chat/468625b2-74aa-4984-ba6e-8eb7f17a257a

[iii] https://cac.org/daily-meditations/sidewalk-spirituality/

[iv] Huston Smith, Jeffery Paine (2012). “The Huston Smith Reader,” p.93, Univ of California Press

Lead Image: “Ocean Swimmer In Thick Fog Near Reykjaice,” storyblocks.com

“Welcome to Freedom?”

                  As I’ve been watching Dodger baseball games recently, I have seen the same ad over and over.  The camera is behind a well-dressed woman in an elevator. We see her press the button for the “Casino” floor. The elevator doors open. She steps out into a vineyard. In the middle of the vineyard is a slot machine.  As she walks purposefully toward it, these words appear: “Welcome to Freedom. Chumash Casino Resort.”

                  The ad does not entice me to visit the casino.  It does make me wonder what “freedom” means in our current culture.

                  I recently attended a fascinating class at the local synagogue taught by my dear friend and colleague, Rabbi Steve Cohen.  The topic was the kosher laws.  We began by reading some of dietary restrictions recorded in the book of Leviticus, going back at least 2,500 years. These instructions clearly describe the animals a faithful person should not eat, including camels, rabbits, and pigs.   For the next hour, Rabbi Steve led the class through a survey of how scholars have interpreted these laws over time (including the 11th, 12th, 13th, 16th, and 17th centuries). Why these animals and not others?  Was it all about healthy eating, or something else?  It seemed to me each commentator had an interesting point of view.  I also learned that, in the last 150 years, leaders in the modern, Reformed tradition had decided the faithful did not need to continue strictly observe these guidelines as in earlier times. 

                  But I was intrigued by the comments of a 20th century British scholar, Dr. Isadore Grunfeld:

To the superficial observer it may seem that men who do not obey the law are freer than law-abiding men, because they can follow their own inclinations. In reality, however, such men are subject to the most cruel bondage: they are slaves of their own instincts, impulses, and desires. The first step towards emancipation from the tyranny of animal inclinations in man is, therefore, a voluntary submission to the moral law. The constraint of law is the beginning of human freedom…

The three strongest natural drives in man are for food, sex, and acquisition. Judaism does not aim at the destruction of these impulses, but at their control and sanctification. It is the law which ennobles these instincts and transfigures them into the legitimate joys of life. The first of the three impulses mentioned is the craving for food; it can easily lead to gluttony, and what is worse, to the fundamentally wrong conception that man “liveth by bread alone.” This natural, but dangerous food- instinct, is transformed by the dietary laws into self-discipline. It is no accident that the first law given to man – not to eat of the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil – was a dietary law.  … Self-control and self-conquest must start with the most primitive and most powerful of human instincts – the craving for food. Thus the Dietary Laws stand at the beginning of man’s long and arduous road to self-discipline and moral freedom.[i]

                  I had never thought of it this way.

                  From an evolutionary perspective, these impulses are part of our drive to survive.  But as we became more aware of our instincts, we can develop an ability to manage them instead of blindly following them.

                  In my late teens, I adopted a common cultural practice of the time: smoking cigarettes. I ended up using a pack a day for 5 years.  I finally decided to quit. It was not easy.  I began to realize that, up to that time, every time I reached for a cigarette, I thought I was making a “free choice.”  But the nicotine in my system was demanding the next one, cleverly disguising itself and instead convincing me I was making a free choice.  I am grateful I was able to break the habit.  I also developed empathy for anyone who becomes dependent on such substances and habits. 

                  I have good memories of playing poker with friends.  Many people go to casinos and have a good time.  But I also know that not everyone who walks into a casino is as “free” as they think they are. (That is why gambling ads, like cigarettes, include a message like “Always game responsibly. Call 1-800-GAMBLE.”)  What is true for gambling is true for other aspects of human behavior.  What looks like freedom can, in fact, be bondage.

                  For centuries, some religious traditions have told people they are inherently sinful because they experience such desires.  But what I like about Grunfeld’s perspective is the assumption that having such desires is not bad in itself, but simply part of our biological inheritance.  Spiritual practices, traditions and communities can help us manage them.  And in that mastery, we discover a freedom we did not realize we were missing.  As Huston Smith said, “We are free when we are not the slave of our impulses, but rather their master. Taking inward distance, we thus become the authors of our own dramas rather than characters in the them.” In the process, we can savor even more the simple pleasures of our lives.  It’s not about a slot machine or a ham sandwich – it’s about becoming wise in the ways of living.

[i] “The Dietary Laws: A Threefold Explanation,” https://traditiononline.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/The-Dietary-Laws.pdf

AI is Showing Up in Interesting Places in My Life

As long-time readers know, one of my ongoing curiosities is the effect digital devices and culture are having on our life.  Almost every day of this week I’ve come across signs of the emerging presence and impact of Artificial Intelligence.

Talking to a Neighbor On a morning walk we came across a neighbor whose kids were students of my wife in first grade.  We asked about them. He said his oldest son just graduated with a B.S. in Computer Science from UCSC but can’t get a job.  Tech companies are not hiring young, qualified graduates unless the person hiring can prove to management that a human being will be needed since AI systems can now do programming work.  The dad, who had a long career in major tech companies himself, said he personally knows five company VPs who have been given the same directives.  His son has decided to become a pilot.

Going to the Dentist Monday morning I went for my six-month check-up.  Our former dentist recently retired, and a bright new guy has taken over the practice.  In one of the pauses in the procedure, I asked him if AI is impacting dentistry.  He said AI controlled robots are being tested that can “set a crown” in five minutes, a procedure that would take an experienced dentist 45 minutes.  He said he has no idea what his professional future now looks like.

Shades of Jurassic Park? Later that day, I read a column in the Wall Street Journal: “AI Is Learning to Escape Human Control.” Here’s how it begins:

An artificial intelligence model did something last month that no machine was ever supposed to do: it rewrote its own code to avoid being shut down. Nonprofit AI lab Palisade Research gave open AI’s o3 AI model a simple script that would shut off the model when triggered. In 79 out of 100 trials, o3 independently edited that script so the shutdown command would no longer work. Even when explicitly instructed to “allow yourself to be shut down,” it disobeyed 7% of the time. This wasn’t the result of hacking or tampering. The model was behaving normally. It simply concluded on its own that staying alive helped it achieve its other goals.

Anthropic’s AI model, Claude 4 Opus, went even further. Researchers told the model it would be replaced by another AI system and fed it fictitious emails suggesting the lead engineer was having an affair. In 84% of the tests, the model drew on the emails to blackmail the lead engineer into not shutting it down. In other cases, it attempted to copy itself to external servers, wrote self-replicating malware, and left messages for future versions of itself about evading human control.

No one programmed the AI models to have survival instincts. But just as animals evolved to avoid predators, it appears that any system smart enough to pursue complex goals will realize it can’t achieve them if it’s turned off. [i]

Building a Tree House in a Palm Tree Wednesday I attended the first session of Westmont College’s annual “Lead Where You Stand” conference.  The afternoon theme was AI. One session featured a panel that included a computer science professor, a Westmont graduate developing AI at Amazon, and a local entrepreneur.  Each described the promises and challenges of AI.  Each were asked to do a live, unrehearsed demonstration of what AI can do.  The professor connected his laptop to the microphone. He then opened his AI program and asked this question: “Hey, I want to build a tree house in a palm tree on my property here in Santa Barbara.  What do I need to do?”  The voice that replied did not sound like a robot, but the most relaxed and happy human you’ve ever talked to on the phone. It responded like this: “Wow!  Treehouse in a palm tree! That’s an amazing idea!  Well, you’ll have to figure how to stabilize it, since palm trees sway in winds.  You probably should find a contractor who specializes in tree houses.  And then you’ll need to go to the county to get a permit. That should get you started.  What else to you need?” And the conversation continued.

Hearing David Brooks Thursday included three presentations by NY Times columnist David Brooks.  This is the eighth year I have heard him speak at this conference and his attitude towards AI has been evolving.  Two years ago, he arrived after spending time in Silicon Valley interviewing leading AI developers; he was excited to report that AI will transform our lives as much as did the printing press and electricity. Last year he was more pessimistic and concerned.  This year he seemed to be less worried.  He believes there is much more to human intelligence than the logical processes embodied in AI technology – we are profoundly informed by our values, emotions and intuitions. “We are going to find out who we are when we find out what it can’t do.” 

David speaks openly about how his life has changed as he has discovered a personal faith.  He says he now lives more from his heart than his head.  Faith for him is not a fixed set of beliefs but a “longing for God.”  By that he seems to mean a living presence, an abiding mystery, and a higher purpose that leads us to serve not just ourselves but a greater good and each other.

At Week’s End

Life these days seems to be a balancing act between staying up to date on current events and remaining sane and hopeful.  I plan to begin experimenting with AI myself next week.  I want to be guided by that longing and purpose.

A Slide from the Conference

[i] “AI Is Learning to Escape Human Control”  , WSJ, June 1, 2025” (If you cannot read the column via the link, email me and I’ll send you a scanned copy.)

Featured Image: Branch Out Tree Care

Images of Our Lives: Resumes, Eulogies, Compost

(Dear Reader: I was on the road this week and working on two presentations for this weekend, so I’m reposting this piece from 4 years ago. I picked it because I continue to find these perspectives on our lives (resume/eulogy/compost) to be interesting and helpful. — Steve)

   PBS and New York Times commentator David Brooks has experienced a major spiritual transformation in recent years.  One of his epiphanies is that many of us live with two sets of virtues in play.   As he wrote in a column entitled “The Moral Bucket List”:

            It occurred to me that there were two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful. Were you capable of deep love?

            We all know that the eulogy virtues are more important than the résumé ones. But our culture and our educational systems spend more time teaching the skills and strategies you need for career success than the qualities you need to radiate that sort of inner light. Many of us are clearer on how to build an external career than on how to build inner character.[i]

            From the first time I read this column, I appreciated this distinction and its implications. In this post, I’m going to comment on my own experience with resumes and eulogies, then add an additional thought.

Resumes: Much of my career was spent building my resume, and it was always interesting to read the resumes of others. Earning degrees, seeking accomplishments that I could quantify, publishing articles and serving on boards were all facts to add to the resume. This is what it takes to create a meaningful work life in a competitive society. It’s part of life in the modern world. But a resume does not a life make.

            Eulogies: One of the activities I treasured as a pastor was participating in memorial services.  I was always keen to hear what would be said about the person being remembered, and how the stories would cause each of us to pause and reflect on our own lives.

            If I was organizing the service, I would work with the family to create a simple outline of the person’s life: where they were born, what they did, and what they accomplished – something like their resume.  But that just set the stage for the stories people would share about the person: how they treated other people, and what moments friends and family look back on with appreciation. As David Brooks noted, in eulogies we often hear examples of the virtues of kindness, bravery, honesty or faithfulness – many ways in which people manifest “deep love.” 

            So far, so good.  I like identifying these two important aspects of our lives.

            But as I’ve been thinking of this distinction, I kept feeling like there was something missing, and only recently felt like I knew what it is.

            Resumes exist in print and are plain for all to see.  The “eulogy virtues” may be affirmed as part of a memorial service or obituary.  But what if the person lives a very long life, and dies when there is no one left to hear the eulogy?

            I think of my own father.  He lived to be 91, and almost all of those years were lived in Redlands and San Bernardino. He was active in many civic organizations and a well-known man in his day. In his last few years, my sister and I brought him to a retirement home in Santa Barbara so we could see him more often.  When he died, we arranged for a service back in San Bernardino.  We published an obituary in his hometown paper and spread the word as well as we could. But on the day of the service, only 3 or 4 people showed up besides family.  It was understandable – he had outlived most of the people he knew – but it was also disappointing.

            I’ve done services for people who die in relative obscurity. There’s no one there to describe and affirm the virtues and integrity they saw in the person. It doesn’t seem right.

            A similar thought arises when I’m with my young grandsons.  We share meaningful and fun times.   I find myself hoping they’ll remember our time together when they are older.  But what if I die before the memories take root? Will the time we share “count?”

            It reminds me of the familiar riddle, “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” We could rephrase it: “If someone dies and no one is there to give a eulogy, is the life a waste?” 

            Ruminating on this question has led me to think of compost.

            Compost  Many years ago in seminary a preaching and communications professor challenged us to think about how we envision the preaching task.

            “You might tend to think of your sermons as roses,” he said. “A masterpiece that you cultivate it until it’s a thing of beauty.  Then you carefully cut it, and bring it to display before the congregation on a Sunday morning . As people leave the service, you hope people will tell you what a beautiful rose you created.  Well, I invite you to not think of preaching that way.  Think of your sermons as compost.  Compost you work into the soil of peoples’ lives you are serving. The beauty comes from what flowers in their life.”

            The purpose of compost is to disappear into the soil, freely giving itself to produce new life.  It doesn’t need to be named to be real and everlasting.  So it is with our lives.  The good we do for others may not be quantified on a resume or be lauded in a eulogy, but that doesn’t mean it’s of no value. It’s a gift we can give, and then let it go.

[i] https://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/12/opinion/sunday/david-brooks-the-moral-bucket-list.html

Where’s Your Axis Mundi?

It’s a word I liked the first time I heard it:  axis mundi. 

I encountered it in graduate school reading The Sacred and Profane, a study of world religion and mythology by Mircea Eliade.  It means the “axis” around which the earth “turns” — not physically, but spiritually and psychologically.  It’s a place where people believe heaven and earth meet.

Jerusalem has long been seen as an axis mundi, a city sacred to Jews, Christians and Muslims.  For traditional Japan, it has been Mt. Fuji.   For Catholics it’s Rome.

Some indigenous tribes in Australia are always on the move, and they carry a sacred pole with them which they erect each place they stay – a portable axis mundi. 

In 2000, I had a 3-month sabbatical project that focused on how digital technology was beginning to affect everyday life.  I visited and conducted interviews in two locations.   

Silicon Valley was already becoming the axis mundi of the tech age. In my interviews and observations, one could already sense that digital tech was becoming something close to a religion.  In the Tech Museum in San Jose, I purchased a computer mouse pad made to look like a Muslim prayer rug.  I visited one of the largest Fry’s stores (in the pre-internet retail era, Fry’s was a “Mecca” for electronic parts and gadgets.)  Some were designed to look like Mayan temples:

One month later I went to India, which was becoming part of that revolution.  After interviewing tech professionals and academics in Bangalore, I spent time in the ancient city of Varanasi on the banks of the Ganges River.  In Hindu belief, there is no place on earth where heaven and earth come closer, and therefore no better place to bathe, die, be cremated and have your ashes scattered.

                  By 2006, I had realized the most sacred religious site in the Western Hemisphere was the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City. Growing up in California, I had seen the Guadalupe image all my life but knew nothing about what it meant.  I learned that, in Catholic tradition, the Virgin Mary appeared to an indigenous peasant, Juan Diego, in December,1531.  She looked more like a native woman than a European and spoke to him in his own dialect: “Am I not here, I who am your mother?” She gave Juan Diego her robe or tilma.   When he took it to a skeptical archbishop and unfurled it, pink roses fell to the floor and her image had become imprinted on the garment.  The tilma is preserved in a glass case in the cathedral.  I spent a week in the city that summer, making several visits to the Basilica.   I watched thousands of faithful pilgrims arrive to worship and celebrate, and was moved by their joy and devotion.

Mt. Shasta is just south of the Oregon border. We’d driven by it many times over the years as we traveled between Washington state and California, but I hadn’t considered it anything more than an impressive volcanic formation. In 2009, we spent a week at a yoga/hiking retreat in the town of McCloud at the base of the mountain. We could see the peak every morning from our window.  As we hiked during the week, we saw it from many angles.   On the last day of the retreat, our group hiked to Squaw Meadows, an alpine meadow on the side of mountain at an elevation of 7,900 feet. I felt smaller and increasingly insignificant in the presence of the mountain’s mystery and majesty; I began to appreciate why both native people and contemporary spiritual seekers from around the world consider it an axis mundi.  We’ve returned to the area every summer for 15 years.

In 1233, St. Francis returned to Italy from the Holy Land where he had visited a cave that was the traditional site of Jesus’ birth. Wanting people to appreciate the setting of the Christmas story, he created the first outdoor nativity scene including live animals.  Nativity scenes have become a familiar axis mundi in countless households and sanctuaries ever since.  When viewed with reverence, candlelight and song, a nativity scene affirms that divine presence can be sensed not only on mountaintops, but also in the lives of humble people in unexpected places.

Some traditions have steered away from emphasizing any particular physical place where we encounter the divine and instead look within our individual awareness.  Quakers affirm that every person has within them an “inward light” or spark of divine energy.  By practicing silent introspection, we can access and experience that light and find guidance from it.

I have visited many sacred sites in my life.  I always try to understand and appreciate the beliefs and imagination of the faithful who are drawn there.

 At the same time, the purpose of visiting such places doesn’t end with the personal encounter. Recent studies have established a powerful connection between experiences of awe and an increased capacity to care for others.[i] Coming into the presence of axis mundi sites can have that effect.  The purpose of spiritual life is not to have a specific experience, but to discover within us a deep reverence for life and others and let that form our character.  As Huston Smith said, “Spirituality is not about altered states but altered traits.”

[i] https://drjsb.com/2022/09/03/starstruck-the-relationship-between-awe-and-caring/