Welcome to the Church
of Cosmic indifference. I'm
Reverend Randolph. Recently we
took a look at Lin Carter's "The
Dweller in the Tomb," and this
week we have something of a
sequel to that story. Donald
Tyson's "The Skinless Face." So
let's dive in.
A couple of episodes back, Lin
Carter imagined an ill-fated
early archaeological expedition
to Central Asia, which
culminated in Harold Hadley
Copeland seeing his own face on
the mummy of the wizard Xanthu.
Donald Tyson's tale, "The
Skinless Face," imagines a 21st
century expedition to the same
area. It follows Howard Amundson,
who is not an archaeologist but
is an engineer responsible for
getting a specialized piece of
equipment to an archaeological
team. They want to use an
electromagnetic imager to get a
glimpse of the site where
they're going to be digging,
primarily to know where to
excavate and how to keep from
damaging significant finds as
they go. The team recognizes
that the site is something of a
graveyard. As they've excavated
small sections, they've come
across what seemed to be tombs,
but the bodies aren't there any
longer. The bones are gone, but
the ossuaries that must have
once held them are still there.
What the team has found, though,
are these black stone talismans,
and everyone at the camp seems
to have one. They've claimed them
as sort of good luck charms,
with the understanding that
they'll have to relinquish them
at the end of the dig. They've
also begun to excavate a
colossal statue that has a blank
mask where one would expect to
see a face. So Howard Amundson
sets up the imager to see what,
if anything, is beneath the
black stone of the statue's mask.
And much to everyone's surprise,
when the image is rendered,
everyone on the team sees their
own face in the image. Howard
begins to wonder what could
cause that. He assumes that there
is something encoded in the
image that the human brain is
wired to interpret as its own
face. But the actual image must
be something else, something
literally unseeable, so the
brain interprets it in a bizarre
way. But they don't have time to
do much with the discovery,
because the whole team descends
rapidly into uninhibited madness,
following their most violent
impulses. Howard even sees the
ghosts of the strange people who
once inhabited the place, and
they seem to be quite pleased
with the madness and wanton
violence. In the end, Howard
kills himself when he realizes
that he is the last surviving
member of the expedition, and we
are left with the chilling
possibility that the authorities
who come to investigate intend
to take the stone charms back to
civilization and publicize a
printout from the
electromagnetic imager. While I
do encourage you to read The
Skinless Face for yourself, I
will mention that Donald Tyson's
story is a very adult read,
especially as he describes the
behaviour of the team once the
expedition has gone off the
rails. But we don't have to go
into detail about their specific
actions in order to draw some
value from this tale. With Lin
Carter's tale, we talked about
how we see our own faces in
everything. We interpret the
questions and challenges we face
as they relate to us,
specifically. We see things
through our own values, and
biases, and judgments. That's just
part of being human. The
violence that breaks out among
the members of the
archaeological team in The
Skinless Face points to another
feature of our perception we
don't always think about. The
hostility we express toward
others is often because of how
we see ourselves. Carl Jung
suggested that everything that
irritates us about others can
lead us to an understanding of
ourselves. Maybe you've heard
that idea expressed as the
things we judge about other
people--or even hate in other
people--are the things we most
dislike or fear about ourselves.
That may not always be true, but
it's worth a bit of reflection,
at least. When I start thinking
about that idea, that what
irritates me about others is
what irritates me about myself,
I immediately reject that idea.
I'm irritated when other people
don't take their commitments
seriously. I'm irritated when
other people hold fast to
irrational and unwarranted ideas
and aren't interested in
learning anything new or growing
in new directions. I'm irritated
when people treat me as though I
haven't done an ounce of
research or thought through my
perspective and that they have
all the answers that I'm too
ignorant to consider for myself.
I'm irritated when people think
that their 15 minute Google
search on a subject is
comparable to my two- or three-
year graduate degree in that
field. And I'm really irritated
by people who profit by
deceiving others, even if
they're not preying on me,
specifically. All of these
things don't reflect what I
dislike about myself. In fact,
some of these things are
diametrically opposed to my
personal values and the way I
try to engage in life and
relationships. But it's
certainly true that I can gain a
greater understanding of myself
through examining these things
that irritate me about others.
And maybe I could even gain
greater compassion or empathy in
the process. Now, what irritates
you about other people may be
completely different than what
irritates me. That's fine. We're
all gonna be irritated by
different things. But what I'm
gonna do is walk through some
personal reflection, observing
what I judge or even hate about
other people's behavior with the
goal of modeling a way that you
can do this in your own life by
reflecting on the things that
are specific to you--the  things
that irritate you, or anger
you, or frighten you about
other people's behavior. Because
when we look at other people, we
do often see a reflection of
ourselves in one way or another.
So let me dig into a couple of
those irritating behaviors I
mentioned a moment ago. I said
I'm irritated when other people
don't take their commitments
seriously. I actually take my
commitments very seriously. So
this isn't something that I see
in others that reflects what I
hate about myself. Sometimes,
though, I think I may hold my
commitments too seriously. I hold
my commitments as non-negotiable
obligations sometimes, and I
feel indignant when I hold up my
end of the bargain and other
people don't. Maybe this comes
from those awful group projects
we used to do in school, where
everyone in the group would get
the same grade. I often felt
that others benefited from the
time and energy I contributed
more than I benefited from, well,
them not putting in time and
energy. And they didn't seem to
care. Maybe they have more
important things to care about.
Maybe I was duped into thinking
that this project was important.
That's not a pleasant idea.
Maybe by taking my commitment so
seriously, I wind up feeling
taken advantage of. And so I
really hate it when other people
seem lackadaisical by comparison--
I interpret it as being a victim
of them not taking their
commitments seriously. Recently,
I was working on another group
project as an adult working with
other adults. I wasn't in charge
of the project, but the person
in charge said, "Let's agree to
have the pieces we're each
responsible for submitted to
everyone by Wednesday night."
Great. By Tuesday night, I have
my piece submitted. I got a
little feedback and made some
revisions before the Wednesday
night deadline. But for some
other pieces--some of the things
other people were responsible
for--nothing. Thursday morning
came and went, and still nothing.
From my perspective, they hadn't
held up their end of the
commitment. And there's a part
of me that's graceful and thinks:
they had a lot going on. We're
in the midst of a pandemic, and
anxiety is running higher than
usual. Maybe there were
unexpected challenges that came
up. There may have been some
personal crisis. I should just
trust that they're doing their
best and be patient. But there's
another part of me that thinks
if they couldn't honor their
commitment, they should have
said something, even if it's when
we reached the deadline, they
could say, "Here's where I am
with this. I'm gonna need a
little more time." Just that bit
of touching base would
communicate that they were still
conscious of their commitment.
Or maybe I was just left out of
the loop. Maybe they submitted
their part of things and I just
got left off the email list. Now
I feel excluded. They still
didn't honor their commitment to
send their part out to everyone,
but now it feels more personal.
Now, mind you, I'm just making
this part up in my head. I'm
imagining this personal slight.
And it becomes clear that my
irritation when other people
don't honor their commitments is
all about me. I'm afraid I'm
going to get taken advantage of,
which is another way of saying
"I'm afraid that I'm naive or
ignorant about things that I
think I should know, and I'm
afraid that I don't matter to
other people." That's what being
irritated about the possibility
of being excluded is about. I'm
afraid that I don't matter. So
when I notice myself getting
irritated by other people not
honoring their commitments, I
can be aware, at the very least,
that it's about my feeling taken
advantage of or taken for
granted. And it's about me
fearing that I don't matter. How
does this connect with my values?
I'll say more about my personal
guiding principles next episode,
but my guiding principles aren't
about protecting myself from
being taken advantage of or
proving that I matter. My
deepest values are primarily
about what I create in the world
and in my relationships. So if I
shift over into engaging my
values instead of my fear, there
are a couple of practical things
I can do, and one is that I can
hold people accountable. I can
remind people of their
commitment and ask if they need
to renegotiate. And I could be
compassionate with people even
as I hold them accountable to
their commitments. I don't have
to defend myself or prove
anything. I don't need to be
acknowledged for holding up my
end of the bargain. I can
alleviate their fear and my own
anxiety by speaking up and
letting them know that their
commitment matters and that
there's room for flexibility.
Well, I say that I don't need to
be acknowledged for holding up
my end of the bargain. Maybe one
of the reasons that I take my
commitments so seriously is that
I want to be seen as dependable,
reliable. I don't want to be
seen as irresponsible. Maybe I
could go so far as to say that
I'm afraid that, deep down inside,
I am an irresponsible person. So
I make it a priority to honor
my commitments to others in
order to prove that I'm not
irresponsible. Sometimes I make
personal sacrifices, maybe even
unnecessary sacrifices, in
order to honor my commitments,
just so I demonstrate my
dependability and reliability.
That doesn't mean I should take
my commitments any less
seriously, although I probably
could. It just means that I can
be aware of my frame of mind
when I start getting irritated
about other people not honoring
their commitments and comparing
their behavior to my own habit
of going above and beyond to
prove that I'm not irresponsible,
I can take a step back. I can
remind myself that I don't need
to prove anything. I can just be
dependable. I am reliable and I
don't make commitments
frivolously. I follow through on
my commitments because I care
about the things that I give my
word to. Just acknowledging
those things and reframing them
cannot only release some of my
irritation about other people,
it can also give me a more
positive experience of the
things that I've contributed.
The same holds true for my fear
that I don't matter. I can spend
a little time in personal
reflection reminding myself of
all the people who have
expressed how much I matter to
them in big ways and small ways
just in the past week. This is
one way that I can calm my
anxiety down once I know
what it's about. I have to do a
little reflection first on why
someone not honoring their
commitment sets me off. But once
I realize that my fear is that
I don't matter, I can address
that irrational anxiety within
myself. Now it's interesting
that my irritation about people
not honoring their commitments
is not about me being anxious
that something I care about
isn't going to be completed. I
prefer it when I can collaborate
with other capable, intentional
people. But if that
collaboration doesn't happen, I
can be satisfied with doing as
much as I'm willing to do. My
irritation is about something
else, and I can't learn that
without doing a little
reflection. Your reflection may
take you in completely different
directions. You probably have
completely different judgments,
and fears, and emotional
reactions, but chances are you
still need a little
introspection--some time set
aside to journey within yourself--
to uncover all of those things
and respond in a way that has
integrity to your personal
values. I can give you another
example of my personal
reflection, though. This one's
pretty direct. I said I'm
irritated when other people
treat me as though I haven't
done an ounce of research or
thought through my perspective
and they have all the answers,
and I'm also irritated when
people behave as though their
15 minute Google search on a
subject is comparable to my
three-year graduate degree in
that field. A lot of this is
about pride, I think. Not
necessarily even unhealthy pride.
I think it's important for us to
have some pride in our
accomplishments. And for me,
sometimes I want validation of
other people acknowledging my
accomplishments. I guess it's
hard for me to be satisfied with
what I've accomplished. Often, it
doesn't seem like the things I
achieve have enough of an impact
on the world around me for me
to feel a legitimate sense of
accomplishment. Somewhere along
the line, I got it in my head
that what I do has to be
significant in order for it to
be worth feeling proud of--and
significant means it has to
affect a lot of people, I guess.
So, it's easy for me not to be
very impressed with myself,
which I guess goes right back to
that fear that I don't matter,
that my life is worthless. Now,
that's a fear I recognize as
irrational, and I do believe
that we decide what makes life
worthwhile. I typically
recognize when I start going
down these self-defeating lines
of thought, and I can shift my
thinking. But when someone else
treats me as if they know more
than I do before they even take
the time to find out how much I
know, or when someone even knows
that I have a graduate degree
and they act as if they're
just as knowledgeable as I am
because they saw a 10 minute
YouTube video or read two
articles online that agreed with
their assumptions, all of that
stuff pushes on my fear that
what I've accomplished doesn't
matter. It doesn't mean anything
to these people that I spent
exponentially more time
researching and pondering a
subject than they have. All that
time and energy I've spent was
worthless, which is easy for me
to translate as "the way I've
spent my life is worthless." And
maybe sometimes that seems like
I'm worthless. That's a fear-
based story that I make up in my
head, and I know it's not true.
I know that people's behavior's
about them and not about me. I
know that they have no way of
knowing how much time and energy
I've poured into a subject, and
even if they did, they might get
something out of feeling
superior or bullying people with
their opinions or whatever.
They've got their own
constellations of anxieties that
run them, and I'm not
responsible for overcoming other
people's anxieties. When I feel
irritation at other people
dismissing my expertise, I can
remind myself that I'm the only
one who gets to decide what
makes life meaningful and that
someone else being dismissive
doesn't negate my
accomplishments or achievements.
It's kind of funny, because I
don't get that way with the
music that I compose. A long
time ago, when I was in high
school, I had recorded some
original piano pieces, and I
shared it with an adult friend
of the family, expecting some
praise, I suppose. I was proud of
what I had accomplished. But her
reaction was less than
enthusiastic. She just said, "I
don't really like piano music."
Man, did that take the wind out
of my sails! But since that time,
I've learned to accept that
everybody's tastes are different.
Of course I'm happy when someone
likes a piece of music that I've
composed, but I don't think the
accomplishment is worthless just
because someone else isn't
impressed by it. Maybe there's
some way for me to transfer that
emotional resilience to some of
the other places where I still
get irritated by other people's
behavior. Either way, Jung is
still right: I learned something
about myself when I examine what
irritates me about others. As I
said, your irritation and
judgments and anxieties are most
likely gonna look completely
different from mine. You can
still do this kind of reflection.
It may take a number of weeks,
really digging into things, but
you can do this kind of
reflection to learn about the
ways you can grow and live more
fully. Every time we look at
someone else's life, there is
something about ourselves
reflected back at us. So, last
one I'll dig into today, I said
I'm really irritated by people
who profit from deceiving others,
even if they're not preying on
me specifically. That's one of
the reasons the Church of Cosmic
Indifference exists. It's one of
the reasons I often speak out
against religion. When I left
the Christian church many years
ago, I could have just slipped
into a non-religious life. I did
for a while. But I kept being
confronted with the harm that
religion often allows people to
do to themselves and to other
people. I kept seeing the ways
that people were manipulated and
preyed upon under the pretense
of religion. But there are a lot
more ways that people prey on
others. Pyramid schemes, for
example. A person I thought of
as a friend once lured me into a
pyramid scheme. I understand the
psychological games that ensnare
people in those kinds of traps,
and I still got suckered in for
a while. They work a lot like
cults. At their core, there are a
handful of people preying on a
bunch of other people profiting
from deceiving other people.
It's easy for me to chalk up my
irritation, my rage, even, at
that sort of thing, to just
caring about other human beings.
I believe that every person has
inherent worth and dignity, so
I'm opposed to predatory human
behavior. I suppose I do feel
some regret that, in an earlier
stage in my life, I was in a
supporting role to some of those
predators, and I suppose I feel
embarrassed at being fooled by
some of those predators, too.
But my irritation isn't just
about me feeling regret or
embarrassment. My irritation is
about wanting to make a
difference in people's lives
without deceiving them, and
seeing other people succeed in
so many ways by being deceptive.
My fear is that, deep down inside,
I'm foolish--that my values are
foolish, that having integrity
is foolish, that my vision for
my life and for the world is
foolish, that I've deceived
myself with all of the lessons
about honesty and meaningful
guiding principles. I know all
about self-doubt, and I know
that there's always going to be
a part of my brain that observes
and criticizes everything I do--
my Inner Critic. And being
foolish is a big fear of mine,
not just looking foolish. I can
handle other people thinking I'm
foolish if I'm doing something
that I think is meaningful and
satisfying. I am afraid of being
foolish, of making decisions
that I think are going to make
my life more meaningful and
satisfying, and being wrong. So
when I start judging other
people, when I get angry about
people preying on and deceiving
others, I'm not upset because I
hate some personal predatory and
deceptive nature in myself, I
think I project my face onto the
victims. I hate that I'm
vulnerable enough to be preyed
upon, that I'm capable of being
deceived. I'm not sure how to
fix that, aside from
acknowledging that we're all
capable of being preyed upon to
some extent. And when we're
anxious, when our emotions have
put their full weight down on
the gas pedal, we're even more
likely to make foolish,
impulsive decisions. I can also
recognize that the values I want
to live by, the guiding
principles I have chosen for
myself, are intentional. I've
thought them through. And when I
rely on those values as my
internal guidance system, I'm
usually satisfied with the
outcome. That doesn't mean I
always get what I want. It means
that I'm satisfied with who I am,
with how I show up in my life
and in my relationships. And
it's within my capability to
let my guiding principles be
more powerful than my fear about
being foolish, or being deceived,
or preyed upon. That doesn't
make it all right for some
people to behave like predators.
It just gives me a better
opportunity to respond to that
behavior from a centered,
intentional, thoughtful place. In
your life, you're likely to
encounter people whose behaviour
irritates you. Your impulse
might be to react violently
against them, or at least
denounce them or judge them
vehemently. You can engage in
some reflection during those
times. Ask yourself, "What does
my irritation teach me about
myself? Am I irritated because
I see something in that person's
behavior that I don't like about
myself? Or is there another
lesson?" If you take the time for
introspection--and again, it may
take a long time over a period
of weeks or even months, and
even then there will probably
always be more things to learn.
But if you take time for
introspection, you can learn the
things about yourself that
enable you to live with greater
purpose, to live more fully, and
to create the things in your
life that are most meaningful to you.
Each episode we pronounce
Curses and Blessings. We know
that the indifferent cosmos
isn't going to respond in any
way to our requests, and nothing
superhuman in the cosmos is
listening. Curses and Blessings
don't affect reality. They have
the potential to affect us,
though. By pronouncing a Curse,
we give voice to those things we
see in others that irritate or
anger us. We can fully express
our judgment against behaviors
that don't align with our own
vision for the world, our own
hopes for people, our own ideals
of justice and morality. Maybe
we can learn something about
ourselves or find some
acceptance by recognizing that
other people are reacting to the
world around them with anxiety
or that they're just oblivious.
And we know that hanging onto
our anger about their behavior
is only going to hurt us, so we
can care for ourselves enough to
release that resentment. And
maybe there's some meaningful
action that we can choose to
take--something we can do in
alignment with our life-
affirming guiding principles. So
whether we release our anger, or
transform it into fuel for
purposeful action, pronouncing a
Curse can be a step in
acknowledging our resentment, or
our wounds or needs. We know the
Blessings we pronounce aren't
going to have any effect on
reality, either. They're just a
way for us to express our
connection with one another. Our
gratitude, our hope, our vision,
those things can fuel meaningful,
purposeful action, too. And
sometimes just pronouncing a
Blessing to express our
gratitude or hope is all we need
to do. We don't Curse anyone
based on their identity. We
only Curse people based on
their behavior. But we don't
withhold Blessing from anyone,
because the indifferent cosmos
treats everyone with equal
disinterest. All of that being
said I now proclaim this week's
Curse and Blessing.
We curse Danny in the name of
Faceless Yegg-Ha for remaining
geographically listless despite
promises to relocate. Danny's
stagnant presence persistently
torments those who have been the
victims of his misogynistic and
narcissistic behavior, Exalted
Yegg-Ha, and he remains willfully
oblivious to the patterns of
behavior that have justly
contributed to his villainization.
Since Danny relishes
seeing himself in the role of
victim, Mighty Master of
Nightgaunts, call forth your dark
pennate servants from their nestled
comfort beneath Yibb-Tstll's wings,
that they may carry Danny
away from his place of
quiescence. May he be deposited
where he may face his own
responsibility for the damage he
has caused in his own life and
the lives of those around him,
that he may cast off his mantle
of victimhood and offer genuine
expiation with a contrite heart.
Hear us, O Faceless One!
Blessings upon Ryan In the name
of Colossal Ythogtha. May all of
Ryan's oppressors fall before
the righteousness of his
position, and may he find
meaningful work for which he is
well-compensated. Rise up on
Ryan's behalf, cyclopean Thing
in the Pit, that when Ryan's
overconfident adversaries behold
even the tips of your protecting
fingers, they may tremble in
humility and awe with terrifying
awareness off their frailty
before your magnitude. May
Ryan's immensity become as your
own, Mountainous Ythogtha, that his
enemies might prostrate
themselves before Ryan and honor
him with attestations of his
superiority to their own feeble
attempts to bully and subjugate.
May Ryan have victory and
vindication, Immeasurable Ythogtha.
We speak these Curses and
Blessings into an indifferent
cosmos, expecting nothing and
receiving in accordance with our
expectations. If you would like
a blessing from the Great Old
Ones, or if you would like us to
Curse those who offend you, that
you might release your
resentment and carry that poison
with you no longer, please visit
our website at cosmicindifference.org
or seek
us out on Patreon at patreon.com
/cosmicindifference
Our book, "Lessons From an
Indifferent Cosmos: How Cthulhu
Can Help You Be a Better Human,"
is also available on Amazon. It
includes 36 lessons on our
opportunity to take personal
responsibility for creating
lives of purpose and meaning,
drawing on the weird fiction of
H. P. Lovecraft and other
authors who have contributed to
the Cthulhu Mythos. You can also
subscribe to our channel here,
of course. May you seek your own
face in the irritation, and
judgment, and anger you feel
toward others, and may you have
the insight to see what you can
learn of yourself in those
moments that empowers you to
live more fully into a best
possible version of yourself,
the incarnation of your deepest
values in the world. Go with
peace and courage.
