The Too Late Newsletter: September Edition
BY CHRISTOPHE DIFO
Welcome to The Too Late Newsletter, part of The Radical Secular.
My name is Christophe Difo and I’m here to tell you, unequivocally, that it’s just Too damn Late. The Too Late News is a monthly newsletter in which I update you with the latest happenings, from my perspective, at The Radical Secular, what’s going on in my life, and whatever other information seems to me to make sense to pass on to you.
I spent time writing this bad boy, and I’m vain (who else writes a thing like this?), so of course I would be thrilled if you were to read the whole thing. But I get that folks’ attention spans (including mine) are comparable to that of a gnat (thanks, Late Capitalism). So the newsletter is structured so that any one section can be read independently of any other section. Feel free to skip around or skim until you find something that interests you. Also, I’ve included a host of explanatory links (indicated by underlined terms and phrases), which you should explore if you want to know more.
Now, without further ado, let’s have a closer look:
AROUND THE RADICAL SECULAR
The Around The Radical Secular segment is shaping up to be where I select a handful of ideas or issues to discuss with you which have been knocking around The Radical Secular world over the preceding month. As we often say at The Radical Secular, “we are flying this airplane as we build it.”
THE RADICAL SECULAR [PROJECT?]
Will you help settle a debate?
We launched The Radical Secular Podcast a little over a year ago. The Radical Secular Podcast has since sprouted progeny — what started as a two guys on a Zoom call has matured into:
A multi-member organization.
A Journal.
A growing social media presence.
An ever-evolving worldview and philosophy of life.
One member of The Radical Secular team has suggested that we change the name of … whatever The Radical Secular is … to The Radical Secular “Project.” The Radical Secular is fundamentally a democratic organization. We take our members’ ideas seriously, consider them carefully, and use a system of majority rule wherever possible. We also care a lot about what our audience thinks, so we’d like your input here as well. Here are the arguments:
PRO-“PROJECT”
The member who advocates for the name change points out that “The Radical Secular” moniker is quite abstract. It’s not even a complete thought, let alone a complete sentence. The phrase fails to communicate the organization’s mission in a way that’s obvious. Rather, the phrase reads as though it’s an undefined something that’s in the process of transforming into something else without having fully realized its potential. The abstract and incomplete nature of the phrase is likely confusing to a person encountering the organization for the first time. In pursuit of provocativeness, the member concludes, the phrase neglects its primary function: to define clearly what The Radical Secular is.
The Radical Secular “Project” name, by contrast, retains much of the provocativeness inherent in the phrase, “radical secular,” while simultaneously providing the reader with at least an inkling, if not a rough outline, of what The Radical Secular is. “Project” is also inclusive. The Radical Secular is more than just a podcast and the name of the enterprise should reflect that broad mission.
NO “PROJECT”
The Pro-Project member assumes, without warrant, that the “The Radical Secular” name is nebulous or ill-defined. That conclusion doesn’t necessarily follow from the fact that “The Radical Secular” is a phrase, and perhaps not a complete thought. Certainly, the conclusion doesn’t necessarily mean that the phrase is ill-suited to defining the organization.
Alternatively, the Pro-Project member’s argument makes the unjustified assumption that there’s inherent value in defining “The Radical Secular” in concrete terms. In fact, the relatively nebulous nature of the “The Radical Secular” name is the point. The phrase’s inchoate provocativeness begs the reader to ask themself what the terms “radical” and “secular” mean to them personally and how those terms relate to society at large. That’s exactly the kind of reflection and questioning our organization seeks to foster in its audience.
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
Let us know which direction you think The Radical Secular team should go in terms of naming the enterprise. Send us an email at theradicalsecular@gmail.com with your thoughts. The first ten people to respond will receive a Radical Secular sticker and, if they consent, will have their names read during one of our shows.
CORAL ANIKA THEILL
Click on the image to watch our interview with Coral Anika Theill on The Radical Secular Podcast.
A wonderful woman named Coral Anika Theill asked Sean and me to write an introduction to the newest edition of her memoir titled, Bonshe’a: Making Light of the Dark. We are positively honored to contribute to Coral’s retelling of her story. Here are selected excerpts from the introduction we penned:
“Our relationship with Coral began in September of 2020, just days after Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away. It had become clear that Amy Coney Barrett would be then President Donald J. Trump’s nominee to replace Justice Ginsberg on the bench. Coral was working fervently to derail Barrett’s confirmation, expressing publicly and passionately, the harrowing story of her time in People of Praise, and sounding the alarm that Barrett had been a prominent member of the same organization.
Coral’s experiences at the hands of her tormentors, including members of the People of Praise, are heinous enough to disturb even the most seasoned social worker. The atrocities include serial rape, kidnapping, domestic assault, involuntary servitude, ritual humiliation, denial of medical care, financial exploitation, social ostracism, psychological torture, and disinheritance. For Coral, all of that immeasurable suffering pales in comparison to the agony she has endured as a result of her court-mandated separation and emotional alienation from her eight children. There is no language sufficient to express the extent of the physical and psychological suffering Coral has endured in the name of religion. The only thing that’s more shocking than Coral’s experience is that she survived it.We were drawn to Coral's story with both fascination and outrage.We were grateful and humbled when she accepted our invitation to appear as a guest on our show, The Radical Secular Podcast. We found her to be unbroken, unbowed, and unapologetic. She shared her story with courage and conviction and each grotesque new revelation pushed our jaws ever-closer to the floor. We launched The Radical Secular Podcast in part to explore and expose the sorts of destructive hierarchies which animate Coral’s story. Our conversations with Coral have hardened our resolve to sound the alarm about creeping theocracy, and they have reminded us to count our comparative blessings.
Our interview with Coral titled, Raped for God: The People of Praise, aired on February 15, 2021.
The frightening implications of Christian fundamentalism’s infiltration of the highest court in the land motivated Coral to publish this new edition of her memoir. Every person who begins reading this defiant chronicle of Coral’s experience under the lash of Christian fundamentalism will emerge deeply concerned for the future of justice, equality, and freedom, including religious freedom, under the United States Constitution.”
If you’d like to read more, please be on the lookout for Coral’s reissued memoir. Her story is as relevant as ever given the burgeoning theocracy in Texas and reassertion of theocracy in Afghanistan.
For more on religious fundamentalism in general, and on Afghanistan in particular, see Episode 59: A Struggle to be Seen: Women in Afghanistan and Non-Binary Folks in the United States, and Episode 60: The Point of the Spear: Religious Fundamentalism. You can access them immediately by clicking or tapping on the images below.
You should also follow Coral on Facebook. And obviously, you should go buy her book immediately.
THE SECULAR LEFT PODCAST
Over the last couple months, we’ve made friends with Doug Berger over at The Secular Left Podcast. As the name of Doug’s show suggests, his programming overlaps substantially with ours at The Radical Secular.
I love talking to Doug. First, because he’s a thoughtful, progressive secularist who speaks his mind. But also because Doug is a white dude from Ohio who speaks with a kinda country-sounding accent (from my northeastern U.S. perspective). Frankly, he’s the part of a demographic from which I generally do not draw allies. I’m grateful that Doug reminds me to challenge my assumptions.
Sean and I appeared on Doug’s show a couple months ago. We reposted that appearance (with Doug’s permission) over Labor Day Weekend, and it’s also linked here. Doug will be joining us on The Radical Secular Podcast for the show that airs on September 20th. You should tune in.
Also, please consider checking out The Secular Left Podcast on social media and wherever you get your podcasts.
FIRE FROM THE HIP
A Vietnam War era machine gunner fires a Machine Gun, Caliber 7.62 mm, M60 “from the hip.”
For several years, I’ve branded my personal social media activity, on Instagram in particular, as The Too Late Show. It’s always been a quite informal and mostly unorganized scattershot of content related to my various interests:
Social justice.
Adventure motorcycling.
Travel.
My life with my wife and my cats.
The Fire From the Hip segment is, I think, evolving into a written roundup of those elements of my life. This is only my second time writing this damn newsletter thing, of course, so who knows how I’ll feel about it this time next month. Still, the segment went over relatively well last time so let’s give it another whirl.
AGENT ORANGE
I’m an “adventure” (ADV) motorcyclist. That means that I favor motorcycle trips characterized by winding back country tarmac, gravel and dirt roads, and not-so-commonly-but-certainly-not-never, single track trails. It also means that I ride a motorcycle which, in car terms, is analogous to a Jeep Wrangler.
In September of 2020, I took a too-big motorcycle, and my too-big assumptions about my skill level, off-road and disabled the motorcycle rather promptly (for more information on that debacle, click here). I spent the ensuing year, piecing my ego back together. During that time, I also bought a motorcycle that is better suited for aggressive off-road riding and I received proper training in handling a 205 kg motorcycle off the tarmac.
The Agent Orange segment is where I get you up to date with what’s hot in the Christophe motorcycle world.
REFLECTIONS ON AUGUSTS’ ADV TRIP
When I bought Agent Orange (my motorcycle) on a freezing cold afternoon in early March of 2021, I committed myself to going on at least one motorcycle trip each month of the riding season. When I say, “motorcycle trip,” I mean a trip that lasts at least 24 hours and includes sleeping in a bed that is not my own. There’s a distinct experiential difference between an overnight (or multi-day) motorcycle trip and a motorcycle day ride. The former implies some form of hardship, and therefore bonding and peak experiences, in a way the latter rarely does.
I didn’t live up to my commitment in April, I’m afraid, but I have executed a motorcycle trip each month since:
May: Attended ADV Camp Part 1 (“Dirt 101”) plus additional riding days for a total of five nights.
June: Rode Section 1 of the North East Backcountry Discovery Route (N.E.B.D.R.) plus some additional riding over the course of two nights and three days.
July: Attended ADV Camp Part 2 (“Advanced”) plus additional riding days for a total of five nights.
August: Rode Section 3 of the N.E.B.D.R. plus some additional riding over the course of two nights and three days.
In the August issue of The Too Late News, I mentioned that:
“On August 28, 2021, eleven months almost to the day from the R1200 debacle, I’ll embark on another on-road/off-road motorcycle trip with Peter and Luke. We’re trailering our bikes up the Berkshires so that we can begin the trip on the same trail on which my ride last year abruptly ended. This time, I’ll be ready.”
It turns out that I was ready. More than ready. Peter ended up being unable to make the trip. And since the truck and trailer are Peter’s, Luke and I were unable to trailer our bikes up to the Berkshires mountains in Massachusetts. Still, we went. And we crushed Section 3 of the N.E.B.D.R. In fact, we rode past the exact spot where I had my accident last year. I said, “fuck you,” and rode on by.
SOUTH AFRICA
A BMW F-800 GS in Karoo the Desert in South Africa.
The motorcycle riding season in the northeastern United States begins, more or less, at the beginning of March and ends, more or less, at the beginning of December. That means that at the time of this writing, I have three more months of riding left in the season. Last time you and I spoke, my riding plans for September and October were:
A mid September, all-tarmac motorcycle trip with my wife to upstate New York and central Pennsylvania over the course of four nights.
A mid October, all-off road, three-day, rally-style event called The Pine Barrens 500.
I’ve since added two trips to my itinerary:
An all-tarmac, overnight trip with my good friend Chris in eastern Pennsylvania over the weekend of 9/11.
A five day trip from Johannesburg to Cape Town in South Africa in early October.
The addition of the South Africa trip means that I had to cancel my Pine Barrens 500 rally trip.
Yes, yes I know. Traveling overseas during a pandemic?! Traveling to South Africa (where vaccination rates hover around 11%), of all places, during a fucking pandemic?!
Fair enough.
Look, if I had my druthers, I’d limit myself to terrestrial, domestic travel for sure. There’s a fucking pandemic on, after all. And I’ve been more than a little critical of those folks who’ve spent the pandemic jet setting around the globe as if everything is normal … but with masks.
The fact is, though, that circumstances beyond my control, circumstances that I cannot disclose here, have forced my hand. I decline to claim that, “I have no choice other than to go to South Africa,” because I could ostensibly opt out of the trip. But I’ve carefully weighed each of the risks associated with getting on a plane for 15 hours, and spending extended time in a COVID-ravished country, against all of the significantly-more-than-compelling reasons weighing in favor of making the trip. And I’ve decided to go.
I’ll be in South Africa for about two weeks. And I figure that as long as I’m going to be in one of the adventure motorcycling capitals of the world, I should definitely do some adventure motorcycling.
That shit will be intense.
CLUSTER HEADACHES
I told you last time we spoke that cluster headaches have been part of my day-to-day experience over the last couple months. It’d be inaccurate, I think, to say that I’m still battling cluster headaches. I’m not fighting anymore. I’m living with cluster headaches. As I said in last month’s issue of The Too Late News:
“Gratefully, it’s 2021 and not 1921, and there are effective medications for treating cluster-headaches. I’m also deeply fortunate today to have relatively affordable health insurance (I surely did not back in 2009).”
I make the distinction between “battling” and “living with” here because there are so many folks out there living with ailments that are far, far more serious and life-altering and devastating than my little issue for which there is an effective treatment, which I’m lucky enough to be able afford.
Still, as my friend Lauren said to me recently, “fuck cluster headaches!”
(Also, cluster headaches aren’t the same thing as migraine headaches. Totally different mechanism. I make this correction all the time. I’m dealing with cluster headaches. It fucking sucks.)
MEDITATION WORKS FOR ME
I’m not a Buddhist. Like, not at all.
My mother is though, and she introduced me to meditation practice when I was in my early twenties. She was affiliated at that time with a monastery near Woodstock, New York. It was something like 2002, and I had just been kicked out of a halfway house in which I was living at the time. I was in the process of recovering from a pretty harsh case of drug addiction, but I hadn’t been expelled from the recovery facility because I’d relapsed. Rather, I’d returned Too Late from a trip to Six Flags Great Adventure, and had missed curfew. That policy - automatic expulsion for a single curfew violation - is even dumber than the policy under which a recovering drug addict is expelled from a recovery facility for relapsing - a practically inevitable part of the recovery process. I could write volumes on the our civilization’s despicably moralistic, comically ineffective approach to drug treatment, but that’s a story for another day.
In any event, there I was. Standing on the sidewalk in Elizabeth, New Jersey with all of my earthly possessions crammed into three huge garbage bags. To the credit of the halfway house people, they did let me call my mom before they gave me the boot. And to her credit, my mom sympathized with my predicament and drove all the way to Elizabeth to pick me up. She shuttled me up to the monastery in New York where, in my sincere desire to right my spiritual boat, I learned to meditate.
I meditated during the ensuing decade with intermittent consistency and even fewer positive results. Eventually, I dropped the practice altogether. Unlike many former substance abusers, who so-often credit god (or their conception of god) for their recovery, my experience is that I didn’t find real freedom (from drugs, yes, but ultimately from my chaotic mind) until I’d fully rejected all things supernatural. I can say with confidence that I owe my life, and I can say with certainty that I owe my happiness and sanity, to my willingness to reject the false comfort of supernatural ideas.
Still, the early stages of that break for psychological freedom was admittedly reactionary. My epistemological pendulum’s swing away from the gods of my upbringing (and of recovery programs), and toward atheism was violent, abrupt. I threw more than a few innocent babies out with that supernatural bath water, to be sure, and meditation practice was among those hapless infants. I’d arrived at the same conclusion about Buddhist meditation, as well as the entire system of westernized meditation practice and culture, that anyone must if they accept reason and rationality as the only sensible epistemological outlook:
Meditation, as it’s typically understood and practiced, is loaded to the brim with bullshit metaphysical claims.
I am back to meditating now though. Big time. Consistently and with wildly positive results in terms of my life satisfaction, emotional reactivity, and mental health. And I’m as confident as ever that the secular meditator (“secular” is the vital caveat here) need not accept bogus metaphysical claims to derive genuine value from meditation practice.
I’m equally uninterested in proselytizing about meditation practice. It’s certainly not for everyone, and if you’ve found a way to be reasonably happy in an existence that’s decidedly indifferent to your happiness, and if you’ve found away to effectively minimize your adverse impact on others, more power to you. As they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, it’s about attraction rather than promotion.
Still, my friend Joe and I are in the process of drafting a full-length article for publication which defines and describes a vision of secular meditation —of secular “spirituality” for lack of a better term. A philosophy of life, a way of being, a method of facing life’s vicissitudes with equanimity, that’s grounded in materialism and that doesn’t require one to accept any supernatural bullshit.
We also believe that the careful self-reflection inherent in an effective meditation practice is a useful tool to those of us striving to be anti-bigots.
Stay tuned.
I LOVE MY CATS
… And so there’s a pic of Alexandria (Alley) observing whatever antics I’m engaged in to get her attention. Look at that face! It’s so damn little!
She’s so precious.
I try to send pictures of the cats to my wife while she’s at work. (I work from home full time.) She says that the pictures make ten hours in the office a bit more tolerable.
IT’S TOO LATE
Well, that’s about the long and the short of this issue of The Too Late News. My name is Christophe Difo. Remember, if you’re reading this, it’s already Too Late for you to fight back.
