EY: I remember my own recovery as being more like a chain of “Undos” to restore the original state.
Presuming you’re referring to your religious upbringing, that seems like a funny way of characterizing it. Virtually every old primitive civilization that we know about had religious superstitions that all look pretty similar to each other and whose differences are mostly predictable given the civilization’s history and geography. (I say “virtually” just as cover; I don’t actually know any exceptions). Modern Judaism is a whole lot saner than any of these, and even somewhat saner than most modern mainstream alternatives. So it seems to me that your parents did pretty well: what they taught you was far from ideal, but it’s lot better than what you would likely have come up with on your own if you had been raised by wolves. Rejecting religion is development, not rehabilitation, because religion isn’t active stupidity; merely the rest state of an ignorant mind.
Cassandra: One of my first memories is relentlessly purging my early childhood personality shortly after I discovered how to perform the trick then panicking and rebuilding a new self any sort of stuff laying around. Still think that rampant self-modification left scars on my mind that are still there today.
I’m with EY in finding this unusual. Since the point of having a physically-developed brain, I’ve been through five cataclysmic adjustments to my worldview, each spurred by the influence of a particular writer (Ayn Rand, Eric Raymond, Paul Graham, Murray Rothbard, and Richard Dawkins in that sequence, with EY currently vying to be #6). But these have always been exciting, not frightening or traumatic even at the most reptilian level. When I come across a writer with a surprising philosophy that I’m intrigued by but decide to reject, I’m disappointed, not relieved. I can’t relate to it feeling otherwise.
N.b., discarding religion was not a cataclysm. It was pretty gradual. I was labeling myself a Pascal’s Wager agnostic since before my Bar Mitzvah, and by the time I came across Dawkins I was already an atheist. Dawkins merely brought me out of the closet, getting me to take pride in being an atheist and to denounce superstition rather than just passively reject it.
I’d like to propose a “personal development score” of sorts. Most adults consider their teenage self a fool. How many times over have you gotten to this point? That is, think of the most recent revision of you which your current self considers a fool. Then recurse back to that point and determine what you would have answered then. How many times can you recurse before you reach back to childhood? Deduct obvious regressions. For example, if you were a cult member between 2004 and 2006, and you_2008 consider both you_2005 and you_2002 to be fools, you_2005 considers you_2002 a fool, but you_2008 consider you_2005 wiser than you_2002, then count that as one improvement rather than two. Then divide by (your age − 13).
EY: I remember my own recovery as being more like a chain of “Undos” to restore the original state.
Presuming you’re referring to your religious upbringing, that seems like a funny way of characterizing it. Virtually every old primitive civilization that we know about had religious superstitions that all look pretty similar to each other and whose differences are mostly predictable given the civilization’s history and geography. (I say “virtually” just as cover; I don’t actually know any exceptions). Modern Judaism is a whole lot saner than any of these, and even somewhat saner than most modern mainstream alternatives. So it seems to me that your parents did pretty well: what they taught you was far from ideal, but it’s lot better than what you would likely have come up with on your own if you had been raised by wolves. Rejecting religion is development, not rehabilitation, because religion isn’t active stupidity; merely the rest state of an ignorant mind.
Cassandra: One of my first memories is relentlessly purging my early childhood personality shortly after I discovered how to perform the trick then panicking and rebuilding a new self any sort of stuff laying around. Still think that rampant self-modification left scars on my mind that are still there today.
I’m with EY in finding this unusual. Since the point of having a physically-developed brain, I’ve been through five cataclysmic adjustments to my worldview, each spurred by the influence of a particular writer (Ayn Rand, Eric Raymond, Paul Graham, Murray Rothbard, and Richard Dawkins in that sequence, with EY currently vying to be #6). But these have always been exciting, not frightening or traumatic even at the most reptilian level. When I come across a writer with a surprising philosophy that I’m intrigued by but decide to reject, I’m disappointed, not relieved. I can’t relate to it feeling otherwise.
N.b., discarding religion was not a cataclysm. It was pretty gradual. I was labeling myself a Pascal’s Wager agnostic since before my Bar Mitzvah, and by the time I came across Dawkins I was already an atheist. Dawkins merely brought me out of the closet, getting me to take pride in being an atheist and to denounce superstition rather than just passively reject it.
I’d like to propose a “personal development score” of sorts. Most adults consider their teenage self a fool. How many times over have you gotten to this point? That is, think of the most recent revision of you which your current self considers a fool. Then recurse back to that point and determine what you would have answered then. How many times can you recurse before you reach back to childhood? Deduct obvious regressions. For example, if you were a cult member between 2004 and 2006, and you_2008 consider both you_2005 and you_2002 to be fools, you_2005 considers you_2002 a fool, but you_2008 consider you_2005 wiser than you_2002, then count that as one improvement rather than two. Then divide by (your age − 13).