Salutations to all who find and read this,
After an eventful two or more years, I will make another attempt to regularly post on this Substack or blog. Between the last uploads and now, I have graduated for the second time, held a job or two, and was doing the usual things that prevent one from spending time reading and writing or much of anything. I had been wanting to continue and restart this blog for a while now. I felt as if I must read more before attempting to write — which, really, I do not think I will ever feel as if I have learned enough so that I can write about anything — and/or I could not think of topics that I felt comfortable writing about. Truly, I feel the truth of the proverb that the more one knows, the less one knowingly knows. Needless to say, Ecclesiastes has become a favorite book of mine in recent years. With a recent breakthrough in 2025, I have managed to finally start writing again. I already have several essays that are completed or nearly completed, so I figured that now is the time to write on rebooting this Substack. I also thought that I might as well write about where and from whom this blog is coming from. If the biographical details bore you, toward the end of this post, there should be some information on what to expect from future uploads.
I uploaded my first three essays around, and after that time, I experienced a fit of metanoia brought on by gradually entertaining the religious life. In some sense, I grew up in a Christian household (or, well, under one of two parents being Christian). However, like many of my generation and generations previous, I was never — I would say — genuinely brought into the faith. Christianity in the US (perhaps particularly of the suburban sort) often serves little more use than being a platform for a rote activity to pass one's time — more of a social gathering than a religious gathering. Further, I remember the church my mother rarely brought my brother and me to was often embroiled in the culture wars of its time. The pastor usually sided with the most culturally conservative of opinions while giving the most milquetoast of justifications that turned my pre-teen and teenage mind away from caring about anything associated with Christianity. This is nothing new, of course, as the de-churching of (post-)Christendom unfolds. The younger generations want nothing to do with Christianity — many find the Church either too regressive or not (politically) conservative or martial enough. For whatever reason, the Church in the US (or, perhaps, globally) consistently finds the majority of its body on the "wrong" or losing side of cultural and political issues. Not only does it often fail here, but it then hardly inspires its adherents or seeks to empower different ways of being in the world — that is, all manner of growth (spiritual, intellectual, or physical) is often neglected. Some of the causes of this are historical, of course. The Protestant Reformation brought about the decline or end of monasteries and, by extent (in some denominations), holy orders, lay orders, and other sorts of religious livelihoods.1 Gradually, in my experience, anyhow, many (Protestant) churches are comprised of only adults and the grey-haired that, as far as I can tell, are only Christian insofar as they attend church, maybe, once a week. I do not feel or experience their love for God or the Christian tradition. Even further, many of them entertain the culture wars in a way that, arguably, is unbefitting of a Christian. Further still, many of them hardly know why they believe what they believe or hardly give mind to critical scholarship. I say this because it ties into the natural or unthinking defense of status quos and reified norms in such a way that discourse pertaining to cultural issues like, say, homosexuality or the lawfulness of tattoos are rarely productive. In a similar vein, though I am not particularly fond of the Five Solas, it would seem many Protestants have turned faith (Sola Fide) into a work by demanding that proper adherence to a denomination's doctrine is necessary either to be a formal member of a church or in relation to salvation. That is to say, too much attention is given to doctrinal stances or dogma. It is no surprise that I found my home in the Quaker tradition.2
Despite never quite being a Christian until the age of 24 or so, I still studied religion a lot from middle school (late primary) to high school (secondary). Somehow or another — my autobiographical memory is awful — I was very invested in Confucianism such that I memorized pages of The Analects and begged my parents to enroll me in a Confucian academy while I was in middle school. For better or worse, my parents did not enroll me in such a school. Through video games, literature, and other media, I had some knowledge of Christianity and Islam. This is given more detail in my previous essays, but when I came upon atheist (or New Atheist) communities online, I inevitably had to learn more about Christianity only so that I could argue against it — usually by way of pointing at contradictions, absurdities, or the questionable moral value of the Bible. In these atheist communities, I often became friends with Indians who would usually mention how there are atheistic religions or traditions within Hinduism (e.g., Carvaka) or, say, Jainism and Buddhism. One person, whose name I have now forgotten, introduced me to Advaita Vedanta, which, depending on your definition of atheism, could be spoken of as being atheistic — personally, I would not describe it as atheistic. I found myself quite amused and intrigued when he introduced me to neti neti and other Vedantic concepts in a way reminiscent of the Socratic dialogues, so I entertained and applied interest to Hinduism and its texts. Combined with a rudimentary understanding of Kierkegaard and the leap into faith, I bounced between what may be theism and atheism. Thus, my interest in religion started with Hinduism — namely, Advaita Vedanta.
When I entered uni for the first time, I joined a Coexist club, and I was further exposed to various religious traditions. The club made it easy for me to enter religious spaces that I would not have dared or thought of entering before. An upperclassman of mine who often tutored me and had my respect would bring me to her Hindu place of worship, but because English was not used in that temple, I never attended without her. On one of the Coexist field trips of sorts, we visited an ISKCON temple (my first conscious run-in with the Hare Krishnas), and due to its accessibility, I would attend it as often as I could, given my workload at the university. In this way, I continued to be exposed to religion (not just Hinduism but also Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Wicca, and (neo-)Paganism), but I would say that my experience of religion in my first four years of university felt much more anthropological than it felt personal — coincidentally, anthropology was one of my passions at this time and I took several anthropology classes. That is, I would not say I really believed — whatever it means to believe — but I found fun and value in religious communities and expressions. It was, perhaps, like a hobby. A hobby that I unconsciously dropped after graduating for the first time — partially because the distance to the ISKCON temple and other religious places of worship that I attended were too far now that I was not on campus. Additionally, my distaste for Christianity diminished in my undergraduate years as I went through some philosophy and literature classes because a part of the curriculum of the private liberal arts university required as much. In these classes, I learned that Christianity was not simply the brutish fundamentalism I was familiar with and that there is a wealthy and varied tradition within the Christian tradition as a whole. I was also introduced to literary analysis applied to the Bible and biblical scholarship, which changed how I looked at the Bible. At the time, however, these developments did not really inspire me to, say, become a Christian or do anything more than simply note that I can appreciate Christianity or religion here and there. Seeds were planted, however, and they came to fruition some years later.
At some point in time, I had, we shall say, visions or hallucinatory experiences that, without my consent, changed the way I felt, thought, and acted in the world — I will not give much detail on them. In retrospect, these experiences serve as the moment that, like Paul in his vision of Christ, I felt drawn toward God and, eventually, devoted much of my time to religious activity and community. At the time of these experiences, I was flirting with Neoplatonism because of the literature I found myself reading and the video essays I watched. At the time, I knew that Christian mysticism, or Early Christianity in general, was permeated with Neoplatonic philosophy. However, in seeking a sort of rational or plausible system, philosophy, or religion, I was focused more on Neoplatonism than Christianity. This changed, however, as I remember when I began to read Simone Weil. For some reason, when I read that she wrote about a moment in which she came to understand the appeal of Christianity in such a way that it aided in her conversion, I, too, felt an irresistible draw. I quote and cite this in a previous essay, but here it is again, "the conviction was suddenly borne in upon me that Christianity is pre-eminently the religion of slaves, that slaves cannot help belonging to it, and I among others.” Simone Weil writes this about her experience in seeing a procession in Portugal. All this, combined with my understanding of Nietzsche, Cioran, Simone Weil, Kierkegaard, and others, all culminated in, in a sense, giving up, emptying myself, or humbling myself so as to allow myself to be transformed by, I will say, the Christian narrative(s), the (canonized or not) saints, and mystics. Perhaps, in other words, I emptied myself so as to accept Grace.
Next came seeking out mystical experiences or experiences with God and working with and learning of the Christian tradition in a catechumen-like fashion. I was not well versed in all the denominational differences, proper theology, or in the history of Christianity in much depth, so I took a rather ecumenical approach by utilizing the resources of many denominations (from the theologically conservative to the theologically progressive and from orthodoxy to heterodoxy or heresy). For better or worse, my favorite authors tended and continue to tend to be the sort that are charged with heterodoxy (which is sometimes said to be acceptable in the eyes of doctrine but, perhaps, only barely so) or were outcasted from their respective religious communities (e.g., Tolstoy) or were not, for various circumstances, affiliated or formally members of a church (e.g., Simone Weil and, I will say, Kierkegaard).3 Given that many of my Christian inspirations were not formally within a church or were cast out and often criticizing Christianity in their time and place, it would have been difficult for me to sincerely join a particular denomination. It also does not help that I quickly delved into critical Biblical scholarship and the history of Early Christianity such that I find ardent dogma and many of the traditional narratives to be, sometimes, intellectually dishonest or unappealing. Granted, I do not and cannot expect entire denominations to restructure themselves in light of academia — I just cannot feign interest in certain denominations or particular dogmas either on account of my physiology or on account of the honesty I hold myself to. Perhaps it can be said that the ultra skepticism of my youth never quite diminished. Most of what I have said here will likely seem commonplace or familiar to those who are in or know of people that are in with the Unitarian Universalists, Quakers, maybe Reformed and Reconstructionist Jews, and other, say, "alternative" faiths or (sub-)traditions within North America and, maybe, elsewhere — growing, too, now are "Deconstructed Christians" who may participate in a range of denominations like, say, Swedenborg, Lutheran, Baptist, Anglican/Episcopal, Mennonite, Catholic, etc.4
Returning to the friend I mentioned, he and I individually sought to visit several denominations to see what we liked best. We both came to the conclusion that it was the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) that appealed to us. I will not speak for him, but I often found the majority of sermons by pastors and priests boring, and sitting in pews listening to one speaker for an hour or more was uncomfortable. However, I found appeal in the procession and ceremonial details found in high church denominations like the Episcopalians or Catholics. Ultimately, the intimacy, lack of doctrinal confessions, history, ethics, faith, and practice, and experience of the lack of laity among the unprogrammed Quakers won me over.5 Despite finding my spiritual home in that tradition, I continued my academic pursuits and interest in religion broadly. This led to me rekindling my love with, say, Hinduism — which I had fallen out of touch with after earning my first degree(s). I had learned that there was a Vedanta Center in my area and began to attend maybe two years after joining the Quakers. About a year after discovering the Vedanta Center, I also came to attend a Buddhist temple and took my Refuge Vow. You could say that, formally, I am within three religious traditions. As to how I comfortably find myself in at least three traditions, that may be explained over various essays if I can keep up with writing and uploading. There is, naturally, a lot of detail not mentioned here that either I only know or my friends and peers know. I wanted to put out some information as to what perspective my essays are coming from. I meant to emphasize and convey that I feel as if I am an unlikely convert of sorts and that I never imagined to be living as I do now and practicing the faith that I do now. Similarly, one of my favorite swamis said something about his religious journey from being a hedonist to becoming a monk in the Ramakrishna Order. Five days before he became or started the process of becoming a monk, he had no thought or knowledge of Vedanta or of monks in the Hindu tradition. Nonetheless, some twenty or more years later, he continues his life as a swami. I, too, did not foresee myself living or imitating the life of a beguine.
Other details that I feel like disclosing are that two of my degrees include biopsychology and biology, then there is a degree in sociology — by trade, I work in hospital laboratories. I may have taken enough classes for an anthropology degree, but I learned that because the university did not technically have a board of anthropology, they could not hand out a degree in anthropology. The curriculum of the private liberal university, though mandating literature and philosophy courses, did not confer a degree for completing those mandated classes. I remember some students wishing they would confer at least a minor to show some recognition. Nonetheless, all that aided me in being further well-read. Prior to university, I spent a lot of my free time reading classic literature and philosophy and in learning Latin (which I eventually came to study for two years in high school and one year in uni). On account of my (then-undiagnosed) autism, I may have been hyperlexic with how quickly I picked up books beyond the usual reading/Lexile score of my age. I was fortunate enough to have parents who encouraged me to read books and attain a good education in and outside the school system. As of late, I continue to read and participate in lectures, classes, events, or communities (online and offline) pertaining to various religious traditions and to philosophy. One of my recent projects has been to be able to read the New Testament in its Koine Greek. I hail from a British-Jamaican family and have been exposed to both the traditional Christian churches and church life of Jamaica as well as to the Rastafari — the latter has influenced me a great deal, particularly in how I understand what it means to live a faith or seeing myself within the Biblical narrative. I often find myself yearning to sit in or walk around the Jamaican countryside, but alas, I find myself, at times, to be in Babylonian captivity, weeping by the rivers of Babylon.
Further, in my essays, I attempt to be ecumenical in my opinions and I try to lay bare where my opinion is coming from and whether it is orthodox or academically informed or not. Here, I will mention some of the implicit biases I harbor. I have biases in favor of the Frankfurt School or Marxism in general, perennialism, skepticism of all sorts (though not in such a way to entertain what many find to be strange conspiracies), of academia or scholarship (in contrast to, say, traditions or groups that often run contrary to what research and data may suggest), mysticism (I share the opinion that Christianity is best understood as a mystery cult), of fideism (a la Kierkegaard), post-structuralism, psychoanalysis imported into philosophy (e.g., Lacanian and Zizekian thought), process theology/philosophy, existentialism, much more, and, of course, a slew of religious traditions. I find myself, maybe, too at home with the continental philosophical tradition such that I begin to shake and cry when I read a philosopher who has some Anglo-like name or when I read texts that include terminology suggestive of the analytic tradition. Regarding my religious views, I think I simply work with what I have been given, and hopefully, that will be reflected in my future essays. I have given up on trying to use a specific label, but an approximate label may be something like a perennialist (see William Blake’s poem “All Religions are One.”
With all that being said, my vision for this Substack is primarily to just put information out there. Personally, I would rather advocate you read the books I cite and reference, but maybe someone will appreciate something I write. The main reason why I feel drawn toward uploading anything at all is that I often find myself landing on blogs (new, old, forlorn, and/or obscure) in my research, and I come away having learned something I may otherwise not have. Aside from that, I also find an appeal in practicing a sort of writing discipline by putting effort into writing essays — even if the essays are not amazing. I keep many journals, but the essays that will be uploaded function as a nexus for all the notes I have written and have stored in my mind. At the moment, the majority of essays that I have in the works are religiously oriented in some manner. I may have a vain hope of wanting to widen the appeal of the religious life by writing some of these religious pieces. I do hope, however, to expand and touch on other topics at some point. This is subject to change, but I think I may label and categorize my essays thusly:
"A Fragment:" — these will feature incomplete essays or essays without much of a point or thesis.
"On [insert title]" — the stereotypical indicator of a relatively standard essay. For such essays pertaining to a religious topic, there may likely be queries tacked on to the end. This is inspired by the Quaker literature I read that often features them. Outside of this category, I will likely be more loose in proper structuring or formalism.
"Reporting Back:" — this may be used as a subtitle but it should indicate a book summary (or book summaries) or summary of something.
"Sermon" or "Letter" — I, perhaps on account of being a Quaker, may not know what a sermon is as far as its standard literary form. Nonetheless, the aim is to impart a sort of moral message, inspiration, and/or contemplation.
As of right now, I aim to upload at least once a month. If I can manage to keep a steady pace, then maybe I can upload twice a month. I say this but life has a way of interrupting my attempts at sustaining a blog. So, we shall see. Consistency is also not aided by how it seems I have been given a bodily constitution befitting of an English twinkish Romantic-era poet who likely perishes in youth by tuberculosis.
I enjoy including artwork and images after an essay, so I will probably do that.
By the Light by J. Ken Spencer
There is, naturally, a lot more nuance to be had here, but what I mean to convey is that there is a sort of stagnancy of both action and mind — conveniently pointing toward the vita activa and vita contemplativa.
Though, I have a fondness for the Roman Catholic Church and the Orthodox and Eastern Churches. If my environment or upbringing were just a little different, I may well have joined one of these churches.
I am unsure of where to place William Blake here. I have not read a thorough biography of his, but as far as I am aware, his religious views were and are downright heretical in the eyes of most of Christendom. Then, of course, Cioran and Nietzsche do not admit to being Christians. Cioran, however, particularly in his "Tears and Saints,” makes Christianity appealing. It was through that book that I really discovered my attraction to the Christian saints and mystics. I find myself emulating both because of Cioran. Nietzsche's views on religion are, I find, extremely complicated. Much has already been written on that front, but I may attempt to write an essay on that topic at some point. In any case, Nietzsche's sort of theory or use of the theory on the drives, the will to power, and the idea that all philosophy is autobiographical and, thus, all philosophy has its roots in one's physiology, paired well with my self and synthesized well with Kierkegaard's existential fideism in response to the absurd. In some sense, in seeing that Christianity is a religion of the slaves, I saw myself as a slave and of the Christian disposition — thus, I was inclined toward Christian narratives. Cioran writes that the will to power of the mystic (or, maybe it was the saint) is toward nothingness. This resonates very well with me. The transformation of suffering into religious ecstasy and the relation between suffering and the passion of the saints were massive aids in my journey — as Cioran wrote, "The poor maidservant who used to say that she only believed in God when she had a toothache puts all theologians to shame." Cioran takes Nietzsche's emphasis on physiology and runs with it. I must also admit that I do have a Romantic streak within me that also catalyzed this series of syntheses.
I have no statistics on the Christian Atheism of Zizek or of other alternatives related to theopoetics, fictionalism, fideism, or, say, post-theism/non-theism in religious spaces. Still, I think I would like to see these flourish a bit more in religious spaces.
As I am editing this essay, it was only a day or two ago that I attended a Quaker retreat that really moved me. I cannot put into words what I felt when hearing the testimonies of (mostly) elderly Quakers. Much love and grace was felt in their presence.