Your beautifully written post truly resonates with me—thank you for sharing such a thoughtful perspective! I was struck by your story of the chasm between those drawn to ‘fringe thinkers’ like Harris and Peterson, and how that tension fueled their rise. For me, Peterson felt like a black hole, pulling me into his universe with a force I couldn’t resist, even as others dismissed him. I love how you extend this pattern to thinkers like Nietzsche, Camus, and embodied cognition, noting the “unordered turning up of noses” that "pushed crucial dialogue" further away.
As his audience grew and fame spread, though, I eventually extracted myself from Peterson's podcast world. It felt like he, like Harris and others, succumbed to the monetization of his intellectual prowess—shifting from raw insight to a polished, commercial product—which turned me off. Your call to hold that tension differently, especially for young people, without forcing us into intellectual camps, feels like a vital escape from such orbits and is truly inspiring.
I deeply connect with this as someone who values diverse perspectives. Your idea of dancing with contrasts reminds me of Bergson’s notion of duration, where every moment holds unique resonance (a theme I’ve been exploring lately). It’s a hopeful vision for philosophy as a shared, open space. I’m thrilled about Love & Philosophy’s mission to bridge these worlds—I’m always enthused to be on this journey with you, exploring "practical ways" to encourage that openness further, fostering dialogue across divides.
Thank you so much for sharing your experience here.
I'd originally written something similar about how many of the friends I'd seen at first embrace certain figures also came to a similar revelation as the one you express above, feeling it became something of a show or spectacle, though I suppose the inertia was hard to tame. Still, there was something about the experience that helped them, even if it was 'growing out of it' or realizing these folks are just people, too. I find it rather hard, and definitely part of my own practice, to try and understand why this happens--why certain thinkers catch on like wildfire and why there can be such difficulty in staying clear and balanced about the whole adventure that ensues.
Sam Harris seems to have done pretty well in trying to keep that in check, or at least I've heard him talk openly about it and of ways it has gone into unhealthy areas with other figures (like Trungpa, for example). Now that I'm writing all this to you, I also realize it can be the same for poets, artists and literary figures I love--this constant struggle with loving their work or ideas or art, or even just some part of that work, and then trying to understand whether it can be separated from their whole personal life lived as a person in all that totality. This is where the idea of multiplicites and complexity has become helpful for me, but rather than go into all that here, I'll just ask: Have you found any practical ways of dealing with such things?
Thank you for your thoughtful and heartfelt reply—it’s a joy to engage in this dialogue with you! I appreciate how you highlight Sam Harris’ self-awareness in navigating this dynamic; his openness about unhealthy areas (like with Trungpa) is refreshing. Your comparison to poets, artists, and literary figures is spot-on—I’ve often wrestled with separating a thinker’s ideas from their personal life, like with Alan Watts, whose profound insights on Zen were shadowed by his womanizing and alcoholism. The Zen quote "If you see the Buddha on the road, kill him" is a guiding light here, reminding us to honor the message over the messenger’s flaws. Your idea of multiplicities as a framework feels like a promising path forward.
Reflecting on my experience with Peterson, I realize I didn’t fully share why his message initially pulled me in like a black hole. His focus on empowering young men to take responsibility and accountability strongly resonated with me, offering a structured call to maturity that I found compelling. However, it didn’t impact me as positively as it might have others because I had already spent years in the late 1980s deeply engaged with similar—and even broader—themes through Robert Bly, James Hillman, and Michael Meade in the mythopoetic men’s movement. Peterson’s emphasis on order and individual responsibility parallels the movement’s focus on men’s inner growth, but Bly and his peers leaned more into archetypal storytelling, ritual, and community—using myth and poetry to explore masculine identity in a less prescriptive, more symbolic way. Peterson’s approach felt more directive, often tied to modern self-help, which made its later monetization feel like a bigger departure from the raw depth I cherished in the mythopoetic work. (By the way, on the subject of the self-help industry, I'm working on a book that challenges the pervasive idea of adding more as opposed to emptying the proverbial "zen cup," before digesting and assembling growth-oriented tools and strategies. The book's title is An Edited Life—The Art of Subtraction).
Your question about practical ways to deal with this tension really got me thinking! For me, one approach has been grounding myself in sensory practices that reconnect me to the present, inspired by Bergson’s concept of duration (from a podcast I’ve been diving into, Bergson’s Harmonic Theory of Consciousness on The DemystifySci Podcast). I’ve found that listening to music—whether it’s microtonal guitar pieces shifting between major and minor or a familiar melody—helps me process the emotional pull of a thinker’s ideas without getting fully swept into their orbit. For example, after a session with a microtonal track, I can equate that to feeling less tethered to a particular thinker’s persona (especially in podcasts where I’m challenged by underlying hubris, excessive filler words like ‘ahs,’ ‘umms,’ or ‘you knows’—which tend to turn me off), focusing instead on the flow of ideas. I’ll say, “I’m here now in this unnecessary judging pattern, and by recognizing it, I can hold it lightly,” which lets me appreciate the insight while letting go of either the spectacle, the pathos-driven presentation, or their poor communication skills. It may sound a bit odd to some, but reflecting on this, I realize how much I value clear communication—like the measured pace and soothing tone in your podcasts—which helps me stay present and open to ideas without the noise.
Another practical strategy has been journaling to separate the idea from the person. I’ll write down what resonates (examples would be Peterson’s call to responsibility, Watts’ Zen wisdom, or Bly’s mythic depth), then reflect on how it stands apart from their public trajectory or personal flaws. This helps me stay open to the value of diverse perspectives without feeling tethered to any one “camp.” I’m also inspired by your call to hold tension differently—I’ve started encouraging the young men I mentor to explore thinkers like Peterson or Harris through a lens of curiosity, asking, “What speaks to you here, and why?” rather than judging their choices, which opens up dialogue instead of division.
I’m so excited to continue this journey with Love & Philosophy—your approach to bridging worlds is vital, and I hope it reaches a wide audience. I’d love to hear more about your use of multiplicities, and I’m eager to explore further practical ways to foster openness together!
Michael, I had the time to come back and really read this and want to say thank you. These are wonderful exercises! These ways you describe of separating the thinking or the speaking from the being are so important. They feel to me like the future, as we try and see ourselves and one another as multiplicities, as many layers that are resonate and connected and part of the same music, but that music is always using those same basic chords to become so many potentials, and always sounding different according to where we are and who we are in any one moment. One practice that has helped me for over a decade now is just the basic statement "I am not this" or "I am not my thoughts" which feels similar to what you are doing here regarding the patterns. You are collecting a lot of great practices, by the way. If you would like to put them all a document of some sort, you are welcome to do a guest post on Harmonic Practices, or something of that kind, and I will gladly share it here. Hope you have a wonderful week Michael! And thank you so much for your support. It really means a lot. warmest, Andrea
Thank you so much for taking the time to dive into my message and for your thoughtful reply! I’m so glad the exercises resonated with you, especially the idea of separating thinking or speaking from being. I love how you described us as multiplicities—like layers of music, each chord playing its part in an ever-changing symphony. That’s such a beautiful and vivid way to capture it, and it really aligns with what I’m exploring in these practices.
Your practice of saying "I am not this" or "I am not my thoughts" feels like a perfect companion to the affirmation I’ve been using: "I AM in this here now," (as expressed by Michael Brown in his book "The Presence Process"). Both seem to point to the same truth—that we’re more than our mental patterns. By stepping back from them, we can connect more deeply with our essence, that ever-present core beneath the noise. It’s inspiring to hear that this approach has been a helpful tool for you for over a decade—it gives me even more confidence in the power of these simple yet profound practices.
I’m truly honored by your offer to share my work on Harmonic Practices. I’d love to compile some of my beneficial exercises into a document for a guest post—it feels like a meaningful way to contribute to the conversation you’re fostering there. Your support means a lot to me, Andrea, and I’m so grateful for the chance to connect in this way.
Wishing you a fantastic week ahead too! I’ll be in touch soon with the document.
Andrea, I finally finished my piece on Harmonic Practices. Do you want me to post it here? If I did, I'd lose the formatting. I do have your email address, so I'll send a Word doc to you. Warmly, Michael
So much to say on this one! And I keep meaning to acknowledge that we are both Bergson fans as well…I am going to write back to this here later when I am not at work, but just wanted to say thanks first. Til soon.
Thanks Cari for the energy you bring to the world and for the love posts. I still keep thinking about that question you asked--"how do you want to be experienced?"
Which for me. After we play with many words and think of how most we’d like people to feel us as a total experience. It comes down to … as love. If we want to be seen much of that is ego. Seen as wise or strong or brilliant etc. rather than felt as kind and patient and caring which are all actions of love.
Substack reveals again and again that I'm not alone in playing around with broad, often-contradictory cognitive frameworks.
Somehow I managed to escape peer pressure: I was at St. John's College and then at Union Theological Seminary in NYC. Exposure to analytic philosophy was secondary through friends. In the meantime, I learned early on that paradox and tension are what give Christianity its depth and maturity: its major doctrines are indeed a set of inherently contradictory ideas, with generation after generation reaffirming the contradictions after violent struggle.
I've always let feeling (curiosity, interest, defiance, beauty) help me choose intellectual pathways. Dodged the bullet of postmodernism (whew!), and now in retirement am finding that Whitehead is a lot of fun for a type of embodied cognition where don't have to dismiss the word "creator" as Haraway stubbornly insists.
Wonderful comment. So interesting to think of Christianity through the idea of holding paradox. That opens it up in ways I had not directly contemplated, thank you. I agree about Whitehead. Process philosophies are so helpful when it comes to trusting feeling as a guide. The way habits are, it can at times seem we have to choose between our feeling and our critical thinking but as you suggest here, these are part of the same embodied presence and dance.
Thanks for this inspiring essay. I particularly enjoyed your description of podcast listening, as it reminded me how influential podcasts have been in my own life. Rather than being shaped by specific podcasters like Peterson or Harris, audiobooks and podcasts have guided me for a long time on my intellectual journey. I'll briefly summarize this journey below, as I think it could fit in with the theme of your substack.
Long before podcasts became popular, around 2009, I started working at a mirror manufacturing company. There, I secretly listened to audiobooks using my MP3 player. This combination worked remarkably well: while my body was busy with simple routine tasks, my mind remained free for intellectual stimulation. Since nobody else wanted to perform these repetitive tasks, it became acceptable for me to wear headphones at work. This allowed me to explore the world of intellectual content even further, and I began listening to lectures and talks using a smartphone.
Whether it was YouTube's algorithm or other recommendations, I don't remember exactly. However, I discovered fascinating thinkers such as Daniel Dennett, Thomas Metzinger, Jiddu Krishnamurti, and many others. These individuals sparked my deep interest in meditation, consciousness research artificial intelligence. This interest led me to a period of dedicated Vipassana meditation and even inspired me to start an interdisciplinary university program that combined philosophy, neuroscience, and cognitive science.
At university, however, I quickly realized how deeply my years as a curious amateur had shaped me. The gap between being inspired by these topics and engaging in actual academic work was significant. Feeling somewhat disappointed in myself, I returned to a low-skilled job in logistics, where I continued listening to podcasts, which by that time had become incredibly diverse.
Last year, while working in logistics, loading boxes in and out of containers, I started using ChatGPT's advanced speech features to discuss philosophical topics. This was an extraordinary experience that, on one hand, elevated my intellectual journey to a completely new level, but on the other hand, clearly showed me how quickly the seemingly speculative science-fiction ideas about AI, which I always found quite entertaining to listen to, were becoming reality.
Last year I decided to leave behind this meaningless yet paradoxically intellectually stimulating job. I want to use the remaining time I have wisely before the technological revolution impacts most of society. In a few years, I aim to perform meaningful work in a hospital as a well-trained nursing professional, a role that also seems unlikely to be automated away anytime soon.Thank you very much for the excellent essays on Substack, but especially for the inspiring shows with fascinating guests.
...and yes, this post was written with a little help from AI ;)
This is such an interesting story and comment, thank you for sharing it here. I identify with this in many ways. I have often found a rather “perfect peace” in moments of doing embodied work of some sort or another, or even walking, while listening to podcasts, and I can really imagine your experience as you’ve expressed it and how this may have felt similar for me. It is always a balance to stay embodied and immediately giving in our lives while also enjoying intellectual stimulation and more mediated intersubjectivity (like listening to others in conversation), or at least it is a balance I have found helps me stay motivated and healthy. Your writing and orientation as stated above make me think you’ve also discovered this, as ‘care’ is definitely a word I feel there. (Funny but I also thought about going ti school to be a nurse at some point). It’s challenging to deal with the messiness of life and these intimate podcast moments over the years have helped me find energy for it. Rather amazing to consider the power of it over this last decade and how it connects many of us…
Hi Andrea,
Your beautifully written post truly resonates with me—thank you for sharing such a thoughtful perspective! I was struck by your story of the chasm between those drawn to ‘fringe thinkers’ like Harris and Peterson, and how that tension fueled their rise. For me, Peterson felt like a black hole, pulling me into his universe with a force I couldn’t resist, even as others dismissed him. I love how you extend this pattern to thinkers like Nietzsche, Camus, and embodied cognition, noting the “unordered turning up of noses” that "pushed crucial dialogue" further away.
As his audience grew and fame spread, though, I eventually extracted myself from Peterson's podcast world. It felt like he, like Harris and others, succumbed to the monetization of his intellectual prowess—shifting from raw insight to a polished, commercial product—which turned me off. Your call to hold that tension differently, especially for young people, without forcing us into intellectual camps, feels like a vital escape from such orbits and is truly inspiring.
I deeply connect with this as someone who values diverse perspectives. Your idea of dancing with contrasts reminds me of Bergson’s notion of duration, where every moment holds unique resonance (a theme I’ve been exploring lately). It’s a hopeful vision for philosophy as a shared, open space. I’m thrilled about Love & Philosophy’s mission to bridge these worlds—I’m always enthused to be on this journey with you, exploring "practical ways" to encourage that openness further, fostering dialogue across divides.
Warmly,
Michael
Dear Michael,
Thank you so much for sharing your experience here.
I'd originally written something similar about how many of the friends I'd seen at first embrace certain figures also came to a similar revelation as the one you express above, feeling it became something of a show or spectacle, though I suppose the inertia was hard to tame. Still, there was something about the experience that helped them, even if it was 'growing out of it' or realizing these folks are just people, too. I find it rather hard, and definitely part of my own practice, to try and understand why this happens--why certain thinkers catch on like wildfire and why there can be such difficulty in staying clear and balanced about the whole adventure that ensues.
Sam Harris seems to have done pretty well in trying to keep that in check, or at least I've heard him talk openly about it and of ways it has gone into unhealthy areas with other figures (like Trungpa, for example). Now that I'm writing all this to you, I also realize it can be the same for poets, artists and literary figures I love--this constant struggle with loving their work or ideas or art, or even just some part of that work, and then trying to understand whether it can be separated from their whole personal life lived as a person in all that totality. This is where the idea of multiplicites and complexity has become helpful for me, but rather than go into all that here, I'll just ask: Have you found any practical ways of dealing with such things?
Thanks again for the dialogue and
Warmest wishes,
Andrea
Hi Andrea,
Thank you for your thoughtful and heartfelt reply—it’s a joy to engage in this dialogue with you! I appreciate how you highlight Sam Harris’ self-awareness in navigating this dynamic; his openness about unhealthy areas (like with Trungpa) is refreshing. Your comparison to poets, artists, and literary figures is spot-on—I’ve often wrestled with separating a thinker’s ideas from their personal life, like with Alan Watts, whose profound insights on Zen were shadowed by his womanizing and alcoholism. The Zen quote "If you see the Buddha on the road, kill him" is a guiding light here, reminding us to honor the message over the messenger’s flaws. Your idea of multiplicities as a framework feels like a promising path forward.
Reflecting on my experience with Peterson, I realize I didn’t fully share why his message initially pulled me in like a black hole. His focus on empowering young men to take responsibility and accountability strongly resonated with me, offering a structured call to maturity that I found compelling. However, it didn’t impact me as positively as it might have others because I had already spent years in the late 1980s deeply engaged with similar—and even broader—themes through Robert Bly, James Hillman, and Michael Meade in the mythopoetic men’s movement. Peterson’s emphasis on order and individual responsibility parallels the movement’s focus on men’s inner growth, but Bly and his peers leaned more into archetypal storytelling, ritual, and community—using myth and poetry to explore masculine identity in a less prescriptive, more symbolic way. Peterson’s approach felt more directive, often tied to modern self-help, which made its later monetization feel like a bigger departure from the raw depth I cherished in the mythopoetic work. (By the way, on the subject of the self-help industry, I'm working on a book that challenges the pervasive idea of adding more as opposed to emptying the proverbial "zen cup," before digesting and assembling growth-oriented tools and strategies. The book's title is An Edited Life—The Art of Subtraction).
Your question about practical ways to deal with this tension really got me thinking! For me, one approach has been grounding myself in sensory practices that reconnect me to the present, inspired by Bergson’s concept of duration (from a podcast I’ve been diving into, Bergson’s Harmonic Theory of Consciousness on The DemystifySci Podcast). I’ve found that listening to music—whether it’s microtonal guitar pieces shifting between major and minor or a familiar melody—helps me process the emotional pull of a thinker’s ideas without getting fully swept into their orbit. For example, after a session with a microtonal track, I can equate that to feeling less tethered to a particular thinker’s persona (especially in podcasts where I’m challenged by underlying hubris, excessive filler words like ‘ahs,’ ‘umms,’ or ‘you knows’—which tend to turn me off), focusing instead on the flow of ideas. I’ll say, “I’m here now in this unnecessary judging pattern, and by recognizing it, I can hold it lightly,” which lets me appreciate the insight while letting go of either the spectacle, the pathos-driven presentation, or their poor communication skills. It may sound a bit odd to some, but reflecting on this, I realize how much I value clear communication—like the measured pace and soothing tone in your podcasts—which helps me stay present and open to ideas without the noise.
Another practical strategy has been journaling to separate the idea from the person. I’ll write down what resonates (examples would be Peterson’s call to responsibility, Watts’ Zen wisdom, or Bly’s mythic depth), then reflect on how it stands apart from their public trajectory or personal flaws. This helps me stay open to the value of diverse perspectives without feeling tethered to any one “camp.” I’m also inspired by your call to hold tension differently—I’ve started encouraging the young men I mentor to explore thinkers like Peterson or Harris through a lens of curiosity, asking, “What speaks to you here, and why?” rather than judging their choices, which opens up dialogue instead of division.
I’m so excited to continue this journey with Love & Philosophy—your approach to bridging worlds is vital, and I hope it reaches a wide audience. I’d love to hear more about your use of multiplicities, and I’m eager to explore further practical ways to foster openness together!
Warmest wishes,
Michael
Michael, I had the time to come back and really read this and want to say thank you. These are wonderful exercises! These ways you describe of separating the thinking or the speaking from the being are so important. They feel to me like the future, as we try and see ourselves and one another as multiplicities, as many layers that are resonate and connected and part of the same music, but that music is always using those same basic chords to become so many potentials, and always sounding different according to where we are and who we are in any one moment. One practice that has helped me for over a decade now is just the basic statement "I am not this" or "I am not my thoughts" which feels similar to what you are doing here regarding the patterns. You are collecting a lot of great practices, by the way. If you would like to put them all a document of some sort, you are welcome to do a guest post on Harmonic Practices, or something of that kind, and I will gladly share it here. Hope you have a wonderful week Michael! And thank you so much for your support. It really means a lot. warmest, Andrea
Hey Andrea,
Thank you so much for taking the time to dive into my message and for your thoughtful reply! I’m so glad the exercises resonated with you, especially the idea of separating thinking or speaking from being. I love how you described us as multiplicities—like layers of music, each chord playing its part in an ever-changing symphony. That’s such a beautiful and vivid way to capture it, and it really aligns with what I’m exploring in these practices.
Your practice of saying "I am not this" or "I am not my thoughts" feels like a perfect companion to the affirmation I’ve been using: "I AM in this here now," (as expressed by Michael Brown in his book "The Presence Process"). Both seem to point to the same truth—that we’re more than our mental patterns. By stepping back from them, we can connect more deeply with our essence, that ever-present core beneath the noise. It’s inspiring to hear that this approach has been a helpful tool for you for over a decade—it gives me even more confidence in the power of these simple yet profound practices.
I’m truly honored by your offer to share my work on Harmonic Practices. I’d love to compile some of my beneficial exercises into a document for a guest post—it feels like a meaningful way to contribute to the conversation you’re fostering there. Your support means a lot to me, Andrea, and I’m so grateful for the chance to connect in this way.
Wishing you a fantastic week ahead too! I’ll be in touch soon with the document.
Warmest,
Michael
Looking forward to it Michael!
Adrea: I created my first substack piece on Harmonic Practices. Please feel free to share. I'm never considered doing this, but your interest inspired me. https://michaeldibenedetto.substack.com/publish/post/160109819
Andrea, I finally finished my piece on Harmonic Practices. Do you want me to post it here? If I did, I'd lose the formatting. I do have your email address, so I'll send a Word doc to you. Warmly, Michael
So much to say on this one! And I keep meaning to acknowledge that we are both Bergson fans as well…I am going to write back to this here later when I am not at work, but just wanted to say thanks first. Til soon.
Great.
oh the toss tumble and turn of the science and sacred debate .. great article and i see you and love your work and openness to the truth of philosophy
Thanks Cari for the energy you bring to the world and for the love posts. I still keep thinking about that question you asked--"how do you want to be experienced?"
Which for me. After we play with many words and think of how most we’d like people to feel us as a total experience. It comes down to … as love. If we want to be seen much of that is ego. Seen as wise or strong or brilliant etc. rather than felt as kind and patient and caring which are all actions of love.
Yes maybe we can add the link to your love piece here
Substack reveals again and again that I'm not alone in playing around with broad, often-contradictory cognitive frameworks.
Somehow I managed to escape peer pressure: I was at St. John's College and then at Union Theological Seminary in NYC. Exposure to analytic philosophy was secondary through friends. In the meantime, I learned early on that paradox and tension are what give Christianity its depth and maturity: its major doctrines are indeed a set of inherently contradictory ideas, with generation after generation reaffirming the contradictions after violent struggle.
I've always let feeling (curiosity, interest, defiance, beauty) help me choose intellectual pathways. Dodged the bullet of postmodernism (whew!), and now in retirement am finding that Whitehead is a lot of fun for a type of embodied cognition where don't have to dismiss the word "creator" as Haraway stubbornly insists.
Wonderful comment. So interesting to think of Christianity through the idea of holding paradox. That opens it up in ways I had not directly contemplated, thank you. I agree about Whitehead. Process philosophies are so helpful when it comes to trusting feeling as a guide. The way habits are, it can at times seem we have to choose between our feeling and our critical thinking but as you suggest here, these are part of the same embodied presence and dance.
Thanks for this inspiring essay. I particularly enjoyed your description of podcast listening, as it reminded me how influential podcasts have been in my own life. Rather than being shaped by specific podcasters like Peterson or Harris, audiobooks and podcasts have guided me for a long time on my intellectual journey. I'll briefly summarize this journey below, as I think it could fit in with the theme of your substack.
Long before podcasts became popular, around 2009, I started working at a mirror manufacturing company. There, I secretly listened to audiobooks using my MP3 player. This combination worked remarkably well: while my body was busy with simple routine tasks, my mind remained free for intellectual stimulation. Since nobody else wanted to perform these repetitive tasks, it became acceptable for me to wear headphones at work. This allowed me to explore the world of intellectual content even further, and I began listening to lectures and talks using a smartphone.
Whether it was YouTube's algorithm or other recommendations, I don't remember exactly. However, I discovered fascinating thinkers such as Daniel Dennett, Thomas Metzinger, Jiddu Krishnamurti, and many others. These individuals sparked my deep interest in meditation, consciousness research artificial intelligence. This interest led me to a period of dedicated Vipassana meditation and even inspired me to start an interdisciplinary university program that combined philosophy, neuroscience, and cognitive science.
At university, however, I quickly realized how deeply my years as a curious amateur had shaped me. The gap between being inspired by these topics and engaging in actual academic work was significant. Feeling somewhat disappointed in myself, I returned to a low-skilled job in logistics, where I continued listening to podcasts, which by that time had become incredibly diverse.
Last year, while working in logistics, loading boxes in and out of containers, I started using ChatGPT's advanced speech features to discuss philosophical topics. This was an extraordinary experience that, on one hand, elevated my intellectual journey to a completely new level, but on the other hand, clearly showed me how quickly the seemingly speculative science-fiction ideas about AI, which I always found quite entertaining to listen to, were becoming reality.
Last year I decided to leave behind this meaningless yet paradoxically intellectually stimulating job. I want to use the remaining time I have wisely before the technological revolution impacts most of society. In a few years, I aim to perform meaningful work in a hospital as a well-trained nursing professional, a role that also seems unlikely to be automated away anytime soon.Thank you very much for the excellent essays on Substack, but especially for the inspiring shows with fascinating guests.
...and yes, this post was written with a little help from AI ;)
This is such an interesting story and comment, thank you for sharing it here. I identify with this in many ways. I have often found a rather “perfect peace” in moments of doing embodied work of some sort or another, or even walking, while listening to podcasts, and I can really imagine your experience as you’ve expressed it and how this may have felt similar for me. It is always a balance to stay embodied and immediately giving in our lives while also enjoying intellectual stimulation and more mediated intersubjectivity (like listening to others in conversation), or at least it is a balance I have found helps me stay motivated and healthy. Your writing and orientation as stated above make me think you’ve also discovered this, as ‘care’ is definitely a word I feel there. (Funny but I also thought about going ti school to be a nurse at some point). It’s challenging to deal with the messiness of life and these intimate podcast moments over the years have helped me find energy for it. Rather amazing to consider the power of it over this last decade and how it connects many of us…
Ps This one is also a note to myself ❤️