but how does it alleviate suffering?

the heartbreaking alienation of vainglorious philosophical vernacular

In preparation for our next event, guest teacher Bob Falconer (a ground-breaking therapist and author I refer to as a wizard) shared an interview he conducted with one of his intellectual heroes, computer scientist and philosopher Bernardo Kastrup. I watched the interview (it was fascinating if you’re into that sort of thing), and went down a rabbit hole and found another interview, with Kastrup speaking to Patrick Harpur. Still fascinated (but truly, you’d have to be into that sort of thing), I scrolled down to read viewer comments and found what felt like the most important sentence among all the fascinating sentences, from a young man in the United States. He wrote:

It’s my view that this gentleman’s question went straight to the heart of the matter. Like many of you, I love cannon-balling into theories and research, mental models, concepts, and philosophies. But I’ve experienced a decent bit of pain in my life and in those times, like this young man, I don’t look for lofty ideas, or giddy abstractions, or polysyllabic enchantment. I look for ways to ease my pain, ideally ones that last and do not cause more harm. When our heads are pounding, we don’t need a lecture on nociceptors. We need aspirin, and we need a human being who can offer it to us with warm hands and kind eyes.

My vow in life is to alleviate unnecessary suffering. It is not more complicated than that. And though my personal struggles have been acute, complex, and prolonged, I’m not referring to grand suffering, or suffering that shatters the earth. I’m referring to human suffering, in all its myriad forms: The suffering of, I can’t do this kind of work anymore but fear is keeping me here. The suffering of, I can’t stop criticizing myself for the tiniest infraction. The suffering of, I have a book inside my soul but cannot let it out.

If we’re on Earth long enough, life will hand us pain. Pain is unavoidable. What is circumventable, what can be changed, is all that we layer on top of it: the self-attack, the uncharitable views, the shoulds, the oughts, the not-enoughs, and those heady, intoxicating, abstract hypotheses that do not address the wounds.

Our guest teacher Bob Falconer has a core value worth mentioning. It’s the opposite of cerebral overindulgence. It’s an orientation to vitality and healing inspired by the great William James. It goes like this:

What works is what’s real.

This view summarizes a radical pragmatism that Bob and I both share: In the effort to alleviate unnecessary suffering, if an approach, technique, or medicine works—if it eases that suffering, helps us navigate life, and leads to concrete improvements—then that approach is welcome. It does not need to be more complicated than that. In 2025 and beyond, the Center for Deep Self Design will host teachers, facilitators, clinicians, and wizards both brilliant and impactful—like Bob, and Beau, and Flint, Dick, and Peg—all collaborating with us in unique ways. I think our collective psyche can sense that in these seasons of uncertainty, we won’t have much use for abstractions. We’ll need places of refuge, purposeful connection, and tools to enhance lived experience.

In service to that, we are honored to introduce Bob Falconer, a wizard who has helped so many:

With heart,
Sun and Liya