He’s also written a book entitled The Last Lecture, which I plan to get my hands on soon. I’m told it’s very inspiring.

In truth, while a lot of people find his ideas on how to live life to be fresh and radical, I’ve been exposed to the exact same ideas all my life, as a cultivational Daoist. The difference is that he presents the concepts miles more practically than I’ve ever seen. Kudos to him, and may he RIP.

By the way, this “last lecture” idea isn’t the first. Those of you who have read or seen Tuesdays With Morrie know what I’m talking about.

There are no students that fail to learn. There are only teachers that fail to teach.

Of course, this applies only to students that are willing and are making an effort to learn.

I’m not sure where I heard this from, but it has been burned into my memory, and I have adopted it as my own teaching philosophy ever since. I really wish more teachers and professors would think this way. Ever notice that the best teachers always follow this kind of philosophy (or something like it), and the worst teachers think their students are stupid?

I think the film Freedom Writers was an incredible example of this philosophy in action. It was based on a true story with real people in Los Angeles. I highly recommend that you check it out, even if you’re not interested in pedagogy. It’s a fantastically moving story, and they didn’t even have to tweak the plot all that much to make it super dramatic.

I’m an organic chemistry TA, and I care very much about what my students think – how cool and suave I am, how I look, how I teach, how I grade, and whether I’m coherent at all. I value their input. Because students who can’t learn don’t exist – there are only teachers who can’t teach. If I don’t get their feedback, how else do I know if I’m even teaching the material?

Deadlines with me are lax, lab report redos are entirely possible (even if against the rules), and I never mind explaining the same thing five times over. The way I run my classes ends up taking lots of time, in class and out, but I feel that I’m doing the right thing. The choices I make are simply manifestations of the above philosophy. Learning shouldn’t be made a chore – it should be fun. I argue that the teacher-student relationship should as personal as possible, without all the barriers of professionalism. Personal, down-to-earth professors are the best, aren’t they?

I don’t even think I’m a great teacher. (Though I do love to teach.) Sometimes I’m not as well prepared for lab as I could be. Other times I miss errors or omissions in lab reports. But from the little experience I’ve had – it seems that none of that matters. If you follow this philosophy, you simply succeed as a teacher. students learn much better, knowing they have something to lean on if they don’t “get it” the first time around. From what I can tell, your attention also wins their attention. “Wow, this guy is really putting forth a lot of effort to teach me this stuff. I should try harder.” Me, I know that’s how I feel when I’m being taught.

My student evaluations from this past semester are attached here to attest to this philosophy. (Rare opportunity for me to gloat – carpe diem!)

Basically, they say that the story of Jesus is nothing more than a myth, not unlike the stories of such other characters as Hercules, Osiris, Dionysus, or Mithra. In fact, Jesus’ storyline pretty much matches the classic outline of a mythical hero. The way the video presented this segment was actually quite entertaining and convincing.

This Jesus- and Christianity-bashing seems to be the trend these days. Very hip, very revolutionary. These “renaissance” people, if you will, have their noses up against Christian extremists, who defend their faith religiously, believing that Jesus is their M/messiah, their S/savior, and that H/he will come again sometime in their lifetimes. So you’ve got these two teams on two sides of the dodgeball field, duking it out.

But what if it doesn’t actually matter whether or not the portrayed Jesus ever existed?

All religions are essentially based on cultivation. Generally speaking, this means that by following religions, people mold themselves to become, usually, “better” people. (How you define “better” would be a good topic for a philosophical debate, since it’s all perspectively relative – but I’m not going to discuss that here, since I’d never get to my point.)

A central idea in Daoism is 「借假修真」 – “using the fake to cultivate the real.” This means that, as cultivators, we use our “fake,” ephemeral, transient, physical bodies to cultivate our inner essence, the force, the Dao, that drives us from within. In simpler terms, we use our physical bodies as mere tools to becoming more harmonious, more “one” with our surroundings, the universe.

The intrinsic idea behind all religions is no different. What we do in life ultimately doesn’t matter. It’s how we do what we do that counts. Whatever you’re doing – are you doing it with love or hate? With intent to harm or help? For yourself or for others? What we do is transient and ultimately inconsequential. It is a short-lived manifestation of our inner core. The core is the how. The core, the essence, is what stays to drive eternally. It is what matters, it is what changes, what becomes full and whole, with cultivation.

So if you believe in Jesus, you might kneel next to your bed and pray to him. If you believe in the Guan Yin buddha, you might visit her in a temple and offer incense. If you are a fan of Allah, you might prefer to practice salah. This is what you do. It ultimately doesn’t matter. What matters is the benefit you receive in your inner core when you do whatever do. That’s what counts, and that’s why your choice of religion really doesn’t matter – they’re all fundamentally the same. That’s why “religion vs. reality” is really moot. Religions are nothing more than tools to help us cultivate. Whether or not they are based on actual historical events is completely trivial.

When you need to use a hammer, you probably don’t care very much if it’s made out of steel, iron, aluminum, or plastic – as long as it does the job. Some hammers are better at some jobs than others. If you’re going to hammer a piece of plastic, for example, you’d better not use a steel hammer, or you’d probably shatter that piece of plastic. You’re better off using a plastic hammer. Different religions have different strengths and weaknesses in aiding cultivation. Pick your religion based on what works for you, but realize that they’re only tools. Or be like me, and don’t pick one at all!

Whether or not Jesus was a real person is not the issue. It’s the idea of him that exists today that counts. This goes for any other deity of any other religion. It’s also not who you pray to or worship that counts, it’s the act of praying or worshiping itself that is important. These are the practices that allow us to cultivate, among many other things, sincere respect in the core. It couldn’t matter less if you choose to worship your kitchen sink or a tree in your backyard. Or if you choose to pray to your bathroom toilet. If you have that heart of sincerity, that’s all that counts.

I remember this question from elementary school. But only just now, in the shower, did I finally come to my own terms with this seemingly paradoxical question.

It’s pretty simple. The way I see it, it all depends on how you define sound. Do you define it as the simple molecular vibrations that happen at certain amplitudes and frequencies? Or do you define it as the electrical stimuli that occur in our nervous systems when our eardrums pick up such vibrations?

If you define it as the former, then by the laws of physics, sound always occurs when a tree falls. If you define it as the latter, then no, there isn’t any sound, because no eardrums or nervous systems are around to detect the vibrations!

I guess epiphanies aren’t always what people make them out to be. The best part is, I’m sure someone else has already come up with this interpretation already.

Discuss this in the community forums.