"I do not personally believe in a personified God, but rather in a pantheistic principle that is omnipresent in nature. This is somewhat akin to the views of Einstein and Spinoza. Einstein described it as follows: “The scientist is possessed by the sense of universal causation…. His religious feeling takes the form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals an intelligence of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection." The Quantum and The Lotus, Matthieu Ricard
That’s a wonderful insight. Their reverence for a divinity that arises from an appreciation of intelligence immanent in all things finds resonance in pantheism. Drawing that connection is brilliant. The superior intelligence we seek is not in a mysterious, orchestrating God but in the small things all around us. Learning a craft like violin or pottery makes cause and effect lived and present—opening up this beautiful bridge between omniscience and science.
Sudipto, this was a deeply rewarding read. Sharp in its distinctions, rich in philosophical lineage, and bold in its critique of pop-aesthetic sentiment. Your parsing of the Burkean and Kantian Sublime is particularly profound, and I found myself returning often to this line: “beauty remains an object-centred aesthetic category.” It opens a vital tension.
That said, I’d love your further reflection on where awe, sublime, and beauty might be evolving today, particularly outside of spectacle.
You rightly suggest that in chasing awe, we risk reducing it to commodified “wow” moments, a kind of emotional tourism. I agree: not all subjectivity is equal. Some awe is thin, curated, performative. But I’d also argue that subjectivity, even when quiet or interior, still counts. A sincere gaze at the ordinary — especially when paired with attention, understanding, and imagination — can "birth" awe, not merely receive it. In that sense, could the aesthetic be more than merely object-based — perhaps co-constructed? Could it be that it’s not that beauty or the sublime lie waiting in the world, but that through perception, we participate in bringing them into form?
What I wonder most is: can awe or sublime be subtle? If so, can ethical weight emerge in these "unmarketable" forms (e.g. grief, humility, or even silence)? And maybe more compelling to me: is cultivating awe always a commodification, or can it be an act of attention, even reverence?
I share your concern about flattening awe into pop-psychology. But I also wonder if what Irvine hints at, albeit imperfectly, is a yearning to recover meaning without defaulting to spectacle. A longing to notice what we forgot how to see. That seems, to me, a worthy path. Even if it doesn’t always shake the soul in the Kantian or Burkean sense.
Looking forward to your next essay on beauty. Grateful for the thought you bring to this terrain.
Thank you Glenn for your attention to this article. I always look out for your comments which invariably arrive with an inquiry that is worthwhile. You asked, can awe or sublime be subtle? I don’t think so. That is the whole point of articulating them and extracting them out of the weave of the ordinary. Your next objection might be, subtle does not equate ordinary. But it does evoke peace, an almost unnoticed movement. But awe grabs you by the balls (pardon my French) and that done subtly is eros… brings us again to beauty.
But, to your other point, can it help in recovering meaning without defaulting to spectacle? And then you used two words—longing and yearning. I think these have to be untangled gently. Recovering meaning appeals to a cognitive urge of making sense of the world… a defined left brain activity. Kant was onto something when he described beauty as something that just doesn't make sense but leaves us in a state of wonderful harmony--as if the world had aligned and everything knew its place. And then, the worlds philosophers and scientists arrived trying to make sense of this too. Your words that followed, longing and yearning, do not care about making sense. They are completely right brain stuff. The point of the physiological distinction is just to point out that there are simultaneous urges that must not be conflated.
Here are my two bits (but really gleaned from the Vedanta), the spectacle of the world is Maya— a beautiful illusion that is easy to get lost in. We must swim in the ocean of Maya to the other side, where all attention must be drawn inward. When we give/pay attention, what do we give away, is the question I want to ask you?
Apologies that I am copying my response to another chat we had, here, but I think its relevant to this discussion and makes sense to read it in sequence:
The Japanese word 'Zen' comes from the Sanskrit word ‘dhyana’ ( the last ‘a’ is not pronounced, it just completes the consonant. Without the attention of the vowels, the consonants are considered half and are structurally unsound to stand alone). Our teachers would say “dhyana do!” ( do is pronounced with a soft d and rhymes with toe) if someone’s not paying attention in class … so it’s literally “pay attention”. Again a verb that denotes giving away at a cost to something. So, if it is the most valuable thing we have that we must give away, what are we left with? And if it’s the only thing that leaves us richer when we give it away (a little riddle has unfolded here), then are we poorer from not having any to give? Or not being willing to give it? Semantics perhaps, but worth our attention.
The attention you have, after you have given away all you had to Maya, must return to yourself. It must collapse in on itself like a supreme and powerful black hole. In this return, in this not just 'giving' but 'giving up everything' is the profound understanding of everything--beyond the hemispheres of the brain and the understanding they provide us; beyond the beautiful, the awesome and the sublime; beyond language and cognition.
But I understand, and maintain, that there is no path other than through the ocean of Maya.
Sudipto, I always appreciate the way your replies hold both precision and provocation. Thank you! :)
On awe and the sublime: perhaps we’re circling a semantic edge. What I meant by “subtle” awe wasn’t that it lacks power, but that it arises from attention instead of scale. A flower easily ignored may, under a certain gaze, unfold into something staggering, intricate, improbable, alive. For example, when we focus our attention and look closer at the delicate formation of petals, veins, arm, lip, and color of an iris bloom, we might realize a sense of awe that I could characterize as "subtle." That kind of awe may not grab the body, but it still stirs something deep. Nevertheless, if this is just a semantic difference of "awe," or perhaps, like you say, I'm conflating "subtle" with "ordinary," than we can just blame it on the limitations of language interpretation.
Your point about longing vs. meaning-making is compelling. I see what you’re distinguishing. The urge to make sense versus the ache to feel aligned. Perhaps what’s most human is how often those arrive together. We don’t just want coherence or clarity. We want connection. Even when we say “I want to understand,” sometimes what we really mean is: “I want to feel at home in the world again.”
As for Maya, I’ve long wondered if the goal is less to swim past it, and more to become lucid inside of it. To see the illusion for what it is and still love its textures. To walk through it not with denial, but with reverence. Maybe that’s what awe makes possible: a form of insight through presence. It brings me back to some of our earlier poems about oneness and separateness.
And to your question: "what do we give away when we give attention?" I’d say: not a thing. I see the phrase to "give our attention" as a failure in the meaning of the word "give," because in this case, we don't relinquish anything. Attention, to me, doesn’t diminish with offering. It focuses. It chooses. We don’t lose it, we locate it. Sure there is a temporal limitation, but there is not less attention to go around after that attention is "given."
Also, I deeply appreciated the etymology you shared about Zen from dhyāna. I was unaware of that, and find it incredibly fascinating. And your closing poem... yes! That final inference, that in the end it’s always been about giving back to ourselves, because there is only one to give, and one to receive. We align on that completely.
Always grateful for how your words sharpen and stretch my own.
I'm seeing your post through my home page and wanted to give it some engagement. If you wouldn't mind doing it back to my newsletter post that would be amazing. New post is up!
Was basically asking for a like or comment back on my long form post. Comments I would assume help the author as it looks like more people are engaging with the piece. So that's why I commented on yours
"I do not personally believe in a personified God, but rather in a pantheistic principle that is omnipresent in nature. This is somewhat akin to the views of Einstein and Spinoza. Einstein described it as follows: “The scientist is possessed by the sense of universal causation…. His religious feeling takes the form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals an intelligence of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection." The Quantum and The Lotus, Matthieu Ricard
That’s a wonderful insight. Their reverence for a divinity that arises from an appreciation of intelligence immanent in all things finds resonance in pantheism. Drawing that connection is brilliant. The superior intelligence we seek is not in a mysterious, orchestrating God but in the small things all around us. Learning a craft like violin or pottery makes cause and effect lived and present—opening up this beautiful bridge between omniscience and science.
Sudipto, this was a deeply rewarding read. Sharp in its distinctions, rich in philosophical lineage, and bold in its critique of pop-aesthetic sentiment. Your parsing of the Burkean and Kantian Sublime is particularly profound, and I found myself returning often to this line: “beauty remains an object-centred aesthetic category.” It opens a vital tension.
That said, I’d love your further reflection on where awe, sublime, and beauty might be evolving today, particularly outside of spectacle.
You rightly suggest that in chasing awe, we risk reducing it to commodified “wow” moments, a kind of emotional tourism. I agree: not all subjectivity is equal. Some awe is thin, curated, performative. But I’d also argue that subjectivity, even when quiet or interior, still counts. A sincere gaze at the ordinary — especially when paired with attention, understanding, and imagination — can "birth" awe, not merely receive it. In that sense, could the aesthetic be more than merely object-based — perhaps co-constructed? Could it be that it’s not that beauty or the sublime lie waiting in the world, but that through perception, we participate in bringing them into form?
What I wonder most is: can awe or sublime be subtle? If so, can ethical weight emerge in these "unmarketable" forms (e.g. grief, humility, or even silence)? And maybe more compelling to me: is cultivating awe always a commodification, or can it be an act of attention, even reverence?
I share your concern about flattening awe into pop-psychology. But I also wonder if what Irvine hints at, albeit imperfectly, is a yearning to recover meaning without defaulting to spectacle. A longing to notice what we forgot how to see. That seems, to me, a worthy path. Even if it doesn’t always shake the soul in the Kantian or Burkean sense.
Looking forward to your next essay on beauty. Grateful for the thought you bring to this terrain.
Yes, no swimming past Maya. No hacking the game like Buddha did. No bypassing Dukkha (suffering). We are on the same page.
Thank you Glenn for your attention to this article. I always look out for your comments which invariably arrive with an inquiry that is worthwhile. You asked, can awe or sublime be subtle? I don’t think so. That is the whole point of articulating them and extracting them out of the weave of the ordinary. Your next objection might be, subtle does not equate ordinary. But it does evoke peace, an almost unnoticed movement. But awe grabs you by the balls (pardon my French) and that done subtly is eros… brings us again to beauty.
But, to your other point, can it help in recovering meaning without defaulting to spectacle? And then you used two words—longing and yearning. I think these have to be untangled gently. Recovering meaning appeals to a cognitive urge of making sense of the world… a defined left brain activity. Kant was onto something when he described beauty as something that just doesn't make sense but leaves us in a state of wonderful harmony--as if the world had aligned and everything knew its place. And then, the worlds philosophers and scientists arrived trying to make sense of this too. Your words that followed, longing and yearning, do not care about making sense. They are completely right brain stuff. The point of the physiological distinction is just to point out that there are simultaneous urges that must not be conflated.
Here are my two bits (but really gleaned from the Vedanta), the spectacle of the world is Maya— a beautiful illusion that is easy to get lost in. We must swim in the ocean of Maya to the other side, where all attention must be drawn inward. When we give/pay attention, what do we give away, is the question I want to ask you?
Apologies that I am copying my response to another chat we had, here, but I think its relevant to this discussion and makes sense to read it in sequence:
The Japanese word 'Zen' comes from the Sanskrit word ‘dhyana’ ( the last ‘a’ is not pronounced, it just completes the consonant. Without the attention of the vowels, the consonants are considered half and are structurally unsound to stand alone). Our teachers would say “dhyana do!” ( do is pronounced with a soft d and rhymes with toe) if someone’s not paying attention in class … so it’s literally “pay attention”. Again a verb that denotes giving away at a cost to something. So, if it is the most valuable thing we have that we must give away, what are we left with? And if it’s the only thing that leaves us richer when we give it away (a little riddle has unfolded here), then are we poorer from not having any to give? Or not being willing to give it? Semantics perhaps, but worth our attention.
The attention you have, after you have given away all you had to Maya, must return to yourself. It must collapse in on itself like a supreme and powerful black hole. In this return, in this not just 'giving' but 'giving up everything' is the profound understanding of everything--beyond the hemispheres of the brain and the understanding they provide us; beyond the beautiful, the awesome and the sublime; beyond language and cognition.
But I understand, and maintain, that there is no path other than through the ocean of Maya.
We must dive
and dive deep,
learn to swim,
to sink, to float.
To get our feet wet,
everything else too,
drench our very souls
in the attention
this world demands.
And we give, and give,
until there is nothing
left to give
except to ourselves
a deep and quiet giving
A giving that leaves
nothing behind.
Sudipto, I always appreciate the way your replies hold both precision and provocation. Thank you! :)
On awe and the sublime: perhaps we’re circling a semantic edge. What I meant by “subtle” awe wasn’t that it lacks power, but that it arises from attention instead of scale. A flower easily ignored may, under a certain gaze, unfold into something staggering, intricate, improbable, alive. For example, when we focus our attention and look closer at the delicate formation of petals, veins, arm, lip, and color of an iris bloom, we might realize a sense of awe that I could characterize as "subtle." That kind of awe may not grab the body, but it still stirs something deep. Nevertheless, if this is just a semantic difference of "awe," or perhaps, like you say, I'm conflating "subtle" with "ordinary," than we can just blame it on the limitations of language interpretation.
Your point about longing vs. meaning-making is compelling. I see what you’re distinguishing. The urge to make sense versus the ache to feel aligned. Perhaps what’s most human is how often those arrive together. We don’t just want coherence or clarity. We want connection. Even when we say “I want to understand,” sometimes what we really mean is: “I want to feel at home in the world again.”
As for Maya, I’ve long wondered if the goal is less to swim past it, and more to become lucid inside of it. To see the illusion for what it is and still love its textures. To walk through it not with denial, but with reverence. Maybe that’s what awe makes possible: a form of insight through presence. It brings me back to some of our earlier poems about oneness and separateness.
And to your question: "what do we give away when we give attention?" I’d say: not a thing. I see the phrase to "give our attention" as a failure in the meaning of the word "give," because in this case, we don't relinquish anything. Attention, to me, doesn’t diminish with offering. It focuses. It chooses. We don’t lose it, we locate it. Sure there is a temporal limitation, but there is not less attention to go around after that attention is "given."
Also, I deeply appreciated the etymology you shared about Zen from dhyāna. I was unaware of that, and find it incredibly fascinating. And your closing poem... yes! That final inference, that in the end it’s always been about giving back to ourselves, because there is only one to give, and one to receive. We align on that completely.
Always grateful for how your words sharpen and stretch my own.
I'm seeing your post through my home page and wanted to give it some engagement. If you wouldn't mind doing it back to my newsletter post that would be amazing. New post is up!
Sorry, couldn’t follow. I am only a month or two old on Substack, so am not aware of these. Could you break it down for this newbie?
Was basically asking for a like or comment back on my long form post. Comments I would assume help the author as it looks like more people are engaging with the piece. So that's why I commented on yours
https://substack.com/@wlorenzocromwell/note/c-116650828?r=8jqpp&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action