I want to take Berkeley seriously, not because I think he was right in all the details of his system, but because I think the core philosophical impulse behind his idealism is both more defensible and more important than the standard dismissal allows. Contemporary philosophy of mind has, in my view, been circling back toward Berkeley for decades without quite admitting it, and reading him carefully reveals why some of the hardest problems in consciousness studies look the way

Shamanism has gained popularity as a spiritual practice that promises healing, connection to nature, and personal transformation. Many are drawn to its ancient roots and mystical rituals, hoping to find answers or relief from life’s challenges. But is shamanism truly accessible to everyone, or are there honest limitations that make it unsuitable for some? This post explores the realities of shamanism, who it may benefit, and when it might not be the right path.

I come to this as someone with a deep investment in philosophy of mind and relational ontology, and as a shamanic practitioner who has sat with people navigating the territory between life and death. This is not an abstract question for me. It is one of the most urgent questions there is. And it deserves better than either the credulity of true believers or the reflexive dismissiveness of those who have decided the answer before examining the evidence.

Drumming has long been a powerful tool in shamanic traditions worldwide. Its steady beat connects practitioners to altered states of consciousness, healing energies, and spiritual realms. This universal language of percussion transcends cultural boundaries, offering a practical method for transformation and connection. Exploring how drumming functions in shamanism across different cultures reveals its deep significance and practical uses as a healing and spiritual tool.

We usually speak of death as if it were the end of a thing. A person lives, and then that person dies. It sounds straightforward, almost tidy. But that clarity may be borrowed from an older picture of what a person is. If you are a substance - a distinct, enduring entity that inhabits a body - then death is the destruction of that entity. But if you are not a substance at all, and instead a pattern, the question becomes much stranger. What exactly dies when a pattern ends?

Most people say they want the truth. They don’t. What they want is confirmation, dressed up as insight. They want their beliefs reflected back at them, their motives excused, their choices validated, and their self-image left intact. The moment truth threatens the ego, it stops being 'helpful' and starts being called rude, negative, or unrealistic. That is the real problem: people are not usually offended by truth itself. They are offended by what truth costs them.

Have you ever wondered if healing could transcend physical boundaries? Imagine receiving a gentle, soothing energy that nurtures your spirit, calms your mind, and revitalises your body, all without leaving your home. This is the magic of remote energy healing. As someone who has walked this path, I’m excited to share with you the profound benefits of this practice and how it can gently transform your life.

Most people think of disagreement as a failure. A conversation that ends in consensus has succeeded; one that ends in unresolved dispute has not quite managed it. Philosophy, at least in its self-presentation, reverses this. It is the discipline that treats disagreement as the medium through which understanding develops, that regards the persistent challenge as more intellectually honest than the premature resolution. Socrates did not walk away from conversations once everyon

In many indigenous traditions, grief is understood as the soul's appropriate response to love encountering loss. If you loved something, a person, a relationship, a version of yourself, a way of life, then grief is the price of that love, and it is also the proof of it. To rush through grief is to dishonour the love that caused it. To medicate it into silence is to refuse the very thing that might change you.

There is a passage in the Philosophical Investigations that philosophy of mind has not yet finished digesting. It concerns what Wittgenstein called the private language argument, and while the argument has attracted an enormous secondary literature, most of that literature debates its validity as an argument rather than attending to what it reveals. What it reveals, I want to suggest, is something that changes the terms of consciousness studies entirely.