Conversation in a Podcast between Sam Harris and Christopher. Part Two of Two
Recorded on 10 March 2023, the podcast has been transcribed into text. For readability, I edited the text, tightened sentences while keeping to the themes and tone of a cordial meeting. I added points to support the reading experience. For ease in reading, you will see 12 themes under Headings addressed in Part Two, plus a set of seven questions arising from Part One and Part Two with questions for readers, Sam and this wallah.
The Problem of Atheism
The Shadow Side of Religious Comfort
Wandering Mind and Happiness
Thought, Identification and Freedom
Thought and Reflection
Thought, Suffering and Liberation
Eightfold Path and the Whole of Life
Individual and Collective Projects
Free Beings, Sangha and Pathology
Middle Way and Community
Douglas Harding and ‘Headless’ Practice
Dear Gurus and Ongoing Dialogue
Seven questions from Part Two for Readers, Sam and this wallah
Seven Questions from Part One for Readers, Sam and this wallah
Part One. A Summary
Sam and Christopher trace Christopher’s journey from Roman Catholic childhood through six years as a Buddhist monk, including ordination and practice in Thailand, extensive spiritual/religious exploration in India, and work with figures in Thailand and India such as Ajahn Buddhadasa, Ajahn Dhammadaro, Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj and Swami Dayananda. He explored path and goal, non‑duality, and the limits of guru‑centred communities. A guided meditation introduces the liberating middle way. He gives priority to freedom from identification with path, goal, spiritual identity, to uncover liberation through seeing the emptiness of the ego.
Part Two – A Summary
The dialogue turns to labels and identity, religious comfort and its shadow, and the authority given to “the Now.” Christopher questions research on wandering mind and defends reflective thought as central to human flourishing. Sam clarifies his secular, non‑atheist stance and emphasises breaking identification with thought rather than suppressing it. Together they examine community, sangha, and abuse around spiritual authority, seeking a middle way between dependence on gurus and isolation in individualism.
Closing Paragraph from Part One
CT: I find life easier, and more practical, by avoiding identification with religion, spirituality, or secular culture. People speak of me in secular, spiritual, or religious terms. The primary reason for this non‑identification: I find it liberating. I feel free when I do not live inside a fixed box. That freedom allows a wider range of responses.
Part Two
SH: You echo something I have said publicly. I once gave a talk at an atheist convention titled “The Problem with Atheism.” I believe it still appears on YouTube. At that point, publishers had placed me within a pantheon of public atheists. The group included Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, Christopher Hitchens, and myself.
CT: Yes, I heard that. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse – conquest, war, famine and death. Found in the Book of Revelations in the New Testament.
SH: We were referred to as the “new atheists,” treated almost like one four‑headed atheist. Yet my deeper interests concerned Dharma and the kinds of topics we discuss now. I always felt the concept of atheism unnecessary. Consider astrology. If presidents made decisions after consulting astrologers, we could resist that. We would not need to call ourselves “non‑astrologers.” We would not form organisations of non‑astrologers or hold conferences about non‑astrology. Atheism feels similar. We can simply talk about reason, evidence, common sense, and science. We need no separate identity as atheists.
That talk remains the only public talk I have attended, much less given, that began with a standing ovation and ended with booing and walk‑outs. The message did not land well for a significant part of the audience. Still, I stand by that view.
The shadow side of religious comfort
SH: On the comfort, we mentioned for religious people facing death, another shadow side appears. I had no direct experience of it initially, and never anticipated it. I learned about it from former fundamentalist Christians and, in some cases, former Mormons. They went through bereavement within tightly religious communities. They told me they did not receive the comfort I had imagined.
In one case, someone lost a child. Their co‑religionists spoke with certainty: “Your child lives in a better place.” “The child stays now with God.” “You will see them again.” “Nothing truly bad happened.” That language felt like a failure of compassion. It did not really meet the reality of grief.
The reality: they had lost a child they would never see again for as long as they lived. A deeper reality: few people hold genuine certainty about their religious claims. Many live with at least a sliver of doubt. The assurance “All will be well” then functions as a defence mechanism. It avoids contact with the gravity of suffering in that moment. It becomes a collective way to push the pain away.
CT: That does not surprise me. I agree that projection often grows around hope because it feels easier and more comfortable. Religion can support that projection. Vulnerability then follows. Sudden loss of faith can trigger another crisis. Believing in fear becomes stronger than believing in God.
If I may, I would like to shift into Buddhist language. In the Buddha’s dharma and practices, there exists genuine encouragement to examine the issue of self. That encouragement applies across the board.
In summary: when we intensify anything with projection or reactivity, it gains “self‑ness.” The mind’s movement grants extra significance and forgets dependent conditions. We start to identify with that “thing” or issue. It might concern religion, secularism, spirituality, science or many other areas.
One example in your book, concerns the present moment. In the last decades, there has been considerable focus on “the now.” We find it in the teachings of well‑known spiritual teachers. Some definitions of mindfulness describe it simply as living in the present moment. Meditation instructions often give strong emphasis to “now.” Authority then gets projected into the “now.” That projection turns the “Now,” with a capital N, into something absolute. The now acquires a self‑existence. This is my question. What is your view?
SH: It is an interesting concern. I have a few thoughts. As a starting point, it helps to notice the difference between “being” and “becoming.” We can speak of rest in the present versus restlessness in the present. People often find themselves unable to rest, even when extraordinary events unfold. They continually think about past and future instead of noticing thought as an appearance in each present moment.
As a basis, Ram Dass’s title Be Here Now captures the starting position for almost everyone. But when a person truly recognises thought as thought, and does not get taken in by it for long, new questions arise. What then becomes of time and “now”? Is there anything to reify or hold? How does this insight relate to the whole of one’s life?
From there we ask: what do we do about longer time horizons? How do we plan for the future? Does planning depart from “now,” or not? These feel like important questions about integrating freedom into ordinary life and seeing whether contradictions appear.
I see the ordinary mode of living and seeking happiness as this: people look for reasons. They try to render life “good enough.” They seek a positive inner conversation and valid reasons for happiness, so they can finally feel happy now. They search for a “good enough” reason to return to the present moment.
Meditation, in many forms, reveals: one can return to the present moment directly. One can recognise a basic contentment before anything happens. One can keep doing that. Then life unfolds with that additional tool. As we seek happiness, we keep finding it before anything changes, before desires get satisfied.
I would also agree, and this may lie within your question, that the wisdom of emptiness erodes clinging to any reified “now.” Scientific language also complicates the concept. In physics, “now” does not hold clear definition. A single “now” uniting this room and another galaxy does not make physical sense. There exists no shared “now” that unites.
Psychologically, however, it still helps to contrast “being here now” with habitual fixation on past and future through identification with thought.
Wandering mind and happiness
CT: Let me take a concern from your book. You referenced scientific research on the wandering mind. You noted that wandering tended to make a person unhappy. All meditators know the wandering mind. I am not convinced the wandering mind always makes a person unhappy.
SH: Yes, some research speaks that way.
CT: As a meditator and human being, I still do not buy it. I fully support the many benefits of genuine presence. Being really in the present moment carries clear value, and you named some benefits. Then“Now” with a capital N relies upon exaggeration through projection. It can gain‑absolute status as the place to be. Some of us—myself included—feel no pressure or even wish to inhabit “now” every moment, including fitting all thoughts into the Now.
From a standpoint of freedom, liberation does not treat wandering mind as inherently problematic. Liberation does not declare, “wandering mind causes unhappiness.” The very term “wandering mind” implies a reference point: a non‑wandering mind. From a liberated way of living, wandering can carry genuine benefits. We sometimes touch difficult corners or fresh ideas because the mind wanders. Wandering can generate problems, yes. Yet it also yields insight, creativity, and new initiatives. A deeper truth reveals the mind can’t wander. Where can it wander to?
I do not want to become a canary trapped in the cage of “Now.” That has little appeal. What is your response?
Thought, identification, and freedom
SH: I have two responses. First: no doubt, mind‑wandering produces both suffering and creative insight. Many good things arise through thinking. Thinking, wandering or not, remains indispensable for us. I do not advocate removal of thought.
My favourite image here comes from Vajrayāna teachings. They describe several stages of insight. In the final stage, thoughts appear like thieves entering an empty house. Nothing there waits for them to steal. The point does not concern blocking thoughts. It concerns recognising that nothing stands in jeopardy within the flow of thought. From my view, that recognition breaks identification with thought without blocking thought. Freedom does not rest in fixation on the present. It does not keep the canary confined. Instead, there remains no cage. There remains no problem. Experience feels like free‑fall.
If thinking unfolds without contraction into self and identification, suffering falls away, while creativity continues.
CT: Yes.
SH: A Buddha must also hold conversation. A Buddha uses and understands language. Language itself does not inevitably obscure consciousness. Many meditators initially treat thought as enemy. They attempt to hold attention on the breath or another object. Thought appears and pulls attention away. Then they return, again and again, to the object. They feel dragged away repeatedly. That describes an early stage. Eventually, one realises the task does not concern blocking thoughts. Practice simply involves awareness of whatever arises: thought, emotion, sensation, and so forth.
Thought and reflection
CT: Moment to moment, yes. It feels unfortunate that thought receives such bad press in meditation circles. For me, the preciousness and beauty of human life also reveals through thought. We can reflect on the past and learn. Scientists and many others reveal that benefit. We can reflect on what causes harm and suffering. We can trace causes and conditions from past to present, and from present to future. That capacity matters greatly.
SH: Quite so. It concerns more than what makes life worth living. Thought makes us human above all. Without thought, we cannot do our human things.
CT: Exactly.
SH: Thought remains totally indispensable. Yet it often confuses people. There exists, to me, a mechanism behind a truly inscrutable phenomenon: how do we ever feel identical to a thought? Thoughts steal up on us from behind. Suddenly they seem to become what we are.
During practice, we focus on breath. Suddenly we wake up from a dream‑scape of thought that lasted moments or minutes. The transition matters. Waking up occurs in the moment we recognise thought as thought. Thought then shows itself as insubstantial—language or imagery only. Yet, unrecognised, that same bit of language can bring dread crashing down, or rage.
The difference between recognising thought as thought and feeling identical with it for a moment matters enormously. Identification contracts experience into a self. The process feels strange. It can look pathological, even though universal among humans. It resembles a mild psychosis. Psychosis, in that sense, simply magnifies the same principle.
We all talk to ourselves silently, believing we keep it private. People we call “crazy” merely vocalise that inner monologue in public. Ordinary people remain similarly confused about the status of their minds. They get identified with one thought after another.
Thought, suffering, and liberation
CT: From the perspective of awareness and dharma, the crucial question concerns suffering. Thoughts may arise in incomprehensible streams, out of the blue at any time. Meditation and mindfulness teachings ask: does this particular thought carry some suffering? Does it harm oneself, others, or both?
It would be unfortunate if we came to believe all streams of thought are problematic or pathological. We need recognition that some thought, as you already said, holds validity and authenticity.
As a teacher, I often hear a simplistic line: “We must go beyond thought.” People sometimes forget, or never realise, that liberation opens space for wise thought. Liberation allows freedom for wise thought to emerge. Liberation does not bind us to “now” alone. It recognises both benefits and limits of the present moment. We see the importance of conditions—past, present, and future—in our relationships. That recognition frees up the being.
We then free the heart, free thought, free the voice, and free the whole being. Remaining true to that reflects liberation. Thought also needs liberation
SH: I fully agree with that picture. On your view, what mechanism frees all these dimensions? What marks the difference between freedom and bondage in thought and in other appearances of experience?
Eightfold Path and the whole of life
CT: I will shift briefly to a wider frame, then return to “self‑ness.” I speak from 50 years‑plus of teaching. Exploration lies in opening life to free it up, to awaken it.
We easily box ourselves in, without realising it. You and I have touched on this already. Let me quote the Buddha for a moment. He speaks of the Eightfold Path. Many know the word “right” in this context. The Pāli term sammā carries the meaning of “right” as an ethical value. Samma also means that which points to nourishment and fulfilment.
Much of Buddhist tradition emphasises the old yogi mind. One sits and meditates, walks and meditates, strives to remain mindful as much as possible. The Buddha saw the self‑ness within that narrow focus. He recognised both its limits and contraction. He then broke out of that methodology. He said we must address the whole of life.
He offered significant areas for samma (ethics/nourishment/fulfillment)
Right View/Understanding,
Right Intention,
Right Speech/Communication
Right Livelihood/Lifestyle
Right Action
Right Livelihood
Right Effort
Right Mindfulness
Right Meditative Concentration
Daily dedication to this exploration wakes us up. We can experience a freed‑up flow ulnfolding. This rhymn, this flow, brings fulfilment. It prevents us from boxing ourselves into meditation alone, or into religionism, secularism, scientism, or spiritualism. We draw from those sources, yet freedom allows movement among them and much more. Wisdom and liberation reveal infinity without limits.
Individual and collective projects
SH: I agree. I see that as my larger project as well. I would add that some tasks can only be done collectively. An individual might reach enlightenment. I think that holds some reality.
CT: A rare reality, though. Perhaps we should touch that topic next.
SH: Right. Suppose an individual becomes fully enlightened, as free as a single mind can become. Human problems still remain that only collective effort can address. The ethical project therefore extends beyond individual transformation. We need solutions to shared problems.
I do not hope to live in a world of illiterate Buddhas who cannot cure diseases or build functioning cities. Human creativity plays a crucial role informing a good world. Meditation alone will not suffice. Much more requires doing.
We therefore need systems that allow people to behave more like Buddhas, more of the time, even when they remain far from that state. At present, we often have systems that hinder ethical behaviour, even among good people. Incentives go wrong. Collective organisation around flawed incentives shapes behaviour. Much of this happens at the level of systems.
Perhaps we can end with one final topic. I would like your view on the ultimate fruition of practice. How do you see its possibility, and how rare does it feel? If that fruition exists, what do you think of the guru–disciple relationship today? Does it function, or feel anachronistic?
Many well‑known gurus seem to have had genuine awakenings. They are not purely fraudulent. They may have helped awaken others. Yet they also behaved terribly and unethically as gurus. How do you understand that? What do you see as the goal, and the possibility of finishing this project in one life?
CT: One of the great joys in my life comes from contact with people who live with quiet depth and real freedom, offering genuine service to others. Such service flows from wisdom and understanding. It must manifest in this world. Such people live among us.
The teachings speak of “noble ones.” You know that language. It points to women, men, and others who know deep awakening and experience, and share love and skills with others. Some carry shadows, like clouds crossing the sun. Those shadows have consequences—both for the role and authority of the person or teacher. Abuse of a role usually involves power, sex, and money.
Tragedy appears when these events occur. The crucial question: can the authority figure—the guru, dharma teacher, yoga teacher, psychologist, whoever—acknowledge failure, foolishness, exploitation, or other harms? Can they then look at those honestly, perhaps with a skilled companion, so behaviour transforms? That, for me, counts as critical. We have to learn from errors of judgement.
Where abusive patterns continue, and receive justification through stories like “he is enlightened,” “she is enlightened,” “they can do whatever they wish,” doubt grows. Continuous abuse framed as proof of enlightenment makes me question claims of awakening.
Sometimes an authority figure in secular, spiritual and religious life falls short, others point it out, and the person listens. A genuine expansion of the waking‑up process then gets underway. That process may call for time away, deep meditation, counselling, therapy, the outdoors contributes to resolving the blind spot. Renewal comes from that. Some return to the original awakening. That reflects my view on authority.
Free beings, sangha, and pathology
SH: Have you ever lived with a teacher you took to be fully enlightened?
CT: I hesitate with the word “fully.” I mean this: I have known teachers and also non‑teachers, in monasteries and outside, in East and West, for whom I feel deep respect. I sense real awakening in some of those human beings. Such people walk this earth.
Teachings allow for foolish errors of judgement—irresponsible words, idealism, pessimism, and more. Old habits still break through in speech or writing. That does not convince me that the depth vanished. I see real depth and wakefulness in some of these people while being human at the same time. The idea of a perfect human being shows a foolish transference onto another.
SH: You feel that free human beings walk among us.
CT: Yes. Freedom reveals itself in the collective, in community, in mutual support and in our humanity. It grows in friendship with like‑minded people. In the Buddha’s language, we “go for refuge in the sangha.” That movement toward shared refuge brings out our best and supports this Earth. Life on earth in its current condition depends on a liberated wisdom and dedicated service.
Yet a paradox appears, or a collapse of idealism. You said within some communities you saw something troubling.
SH: Yes. I met several teachers who seemed to embody everything I looked for: wisdom born of practice and deep insight. Yet in every community around such a teacher, I detected pathology. I never felt tempted to join those communities. People who gave their lives to living with the teacher often looked like casualties of the dharma. They had renounced worldly life without finding a satisfying way to live in the world. Often, they already struggled to locate any stable point of contact with ordinary life.
So I worry about the traditional sangha model. It does not feel like a perfect remedy. It often selects people who become world‑weary too early, partly because they never learned to function fully in the world. I think we need people who function in the world with real engagement, yet who also recognise dukkha (sufffering/unsatisfactoriness) and the need to break the spell of identification with self. That balance feels hard to describe and hard to recommend as a path.
CT. Why should people need to fully function in the world? The “world” you refer to consists of greed, blame and confusion. Some don’t want to live in that world. They love a life of shared community. I support their human right to live in a different way free from consumerism, competitiveness, desire for success and the religion of individualism that goes with it. There is no such thing as a “perfect remedy.” Those attached to secularism constantly think they know what is best for everyone. Irrational thinking and clinging have produced this unholy mess. You can find empathy and compassion in secular, spiritual, religious and eco-communities as much as anywhere else.
Middle way of community
CT: Your description carries important points. Many people carry vulnerability and projection toward authority—almost a childlike projection onto a parent figure. Then a community forms around that figure. At that moment, we must tread carefully.
Community matters. I feel some accord between us. A community can become dependent on a person. The pattern becomes a minefield. It tends to produce dependency. Liberation cannot flourish in dependency on self or on self of another or others.
A strong reaction against community creates difficulty. Community may take many shapes from an international network to a small group in regular contact to nourish and support each other. Reaction against such manifestations can push a person toward isolation. Suspicion and fear of community then harden. The person stays alone dependent on their personal feelings, views, and attitudes. That calls for caution.
We need to watch both extremes: sliding into dependence on authority or reacting against community and falling into the authority of the isolated self. I say, “tread carefully.” The task lies in finding the middle way between these two extremes. That middle way brings about the liberation of love and insight.]
Douglas Harding and “headless” practice
SH: Did you ever cross paths with Douglas Harding?
CT: Yes, we met long ago. I cannot recall many details now. He spent time in this country (UK) and developed a method often called “the headless way.” I did not attend his workshops, though friends did. The method helps people see the limits of thought and head‑bound identity. It encourages looking beyond the box of the head. I regard his teachings as helpful for some.
SH: I never met him. In the Waking Up app, Richard Lang, one of his students, speaks about Harding and his community. From Richard’s account, people lived near one another with little hierarchy. They had been helped by Harding’s teaching and chose to live close, without the usual pathology of a guru‑centred scene.
Dead gurus and ongoing dialogue
CT: If I ever accepted a guru, I prefer a dead one. That feels safer and simpler. Many precious dead gurus wait for us to wake up to their teachings: Let us draw on their spirit and on the love of wisdom in many traditions. That gives the best of what a guru offers, without the dangers.
SH: It feels wonderful to finally meet you and hear your voice. I hope this marks the first of many conversations. If you ever wish contributions from me for the app, I will gladly explore that. Let us continue this dialogue.
CT: I feel grateful for this time. I appreciate the shared experience and our looking into central questions of human existence. Thank you also for the gift of the audio recorder and mike for this podcast equipment.
Seven questions from Part Two for Readers, Sam and this wallah
How do you distinguish healthy present‑moment emphasis from reifying “Now” as a new dogma?
In your view, when does mind‑wandering support insight rather than undermine well‑being?
How might secular culture better honour grief and mortality without relying on religious consolations?
What kind of communities would let people “behave like Buddhas” without guru‑centred dependence?
How do you see your own role in helping secular audiences relate wisely to thought and self?
How do you see secular rationality engaging constructively with devout Muslim communities, rather than only opposing their doctrines?
Could deeper dialogue with Muslims who combine faith, ethics, and non‑violence modify your current stance toward Islam?
Seven Questions from Part One for Readers, Sam and this wallah
What are the practical benefits of non‑dual insights for secular lives?
Has your view of guru–student dynamics changed since encounters with Eastern teachers?
Could you let go of your views of Islam if you realised you have no first-hand experience, only the secular media to rely upon?
What distinguishes genuine awakening from clarity of mind?
Does your secular framework explicitly explore ethics, right livelihood and spiritual community as the Buddha directed?
What is the difference between criticism of a religion, such as Islam and Islamaphobia, lack first hand empirical experience of the faith and Muslim culture?
How do you integrate the path leading to the goal with non‑dual awaking?
Love
Christopher
I enjoyed this second conversation.
Christopher asks…
A deeper truth reveals the mind can’t wander. Where can it wander to?
Such a great question and subject for reflection.
By the way….your 8 fold path contains an added bonus extra path factor!
🙏❤️