Dr. Jay Forrest

We are told that people suffer from low self-esteem, that they secretly hate themselves. This doctrine sounds compassionate, but it is rarely examined.

Consider what is actually happening. A person fails and feels shame, frustration, even disgust. This is labeled “self-hatred.” But if someone truly hated themselves, failure would not wound them—it would satisfy them. They would celebrate the downfall of their hated enemy, not mourn it. The pain reveals something else entirely: pride. What is wounded is not the self, but the exalted image of the self.

So-called self-hatred is better understood as injured self-love. It is the collapse of an inflated self-concept—the sense that “I am better than this,” “I should be more than this,” “I am someone.” When reality contradicts that image, the result is not hatred, but humiliation.

What is required is not more self-love, but less self-concern. To “forget oneself” does not mean neglect or indifference. It means releasing the demand to be exceptional, coherent, and admirable. It means seeing clearly: this organism is conditioned, limited, and inconsistent. It will fail. It will fall short. Where self-esteem seeks to elevate the self, self-acceptance dissolves the need to.

Albert Ellis created a simple three-part model that explains how our reactions to events are not caused by the events themselves, but by how we interpret them.

A stands for the activating event. This is anything that happens—that might trigger a reaction, such as an external event, a situation you anticipate, or an internal event like a memory.

B stands for your beliefs about the event, your interpretation or judgment. Someone yells at you, and you think “He must be angry with me.” Your deeper assumption is that “If someone is angry with me, it means I’m worthless.” You might also believe that “I must always be respected.”

Belief is the crucial link. Your beliefs are making you sick. It is not events that cause emotional problems but your beliefs that cause them.

C stands for the consequences: your emotions, behaviors, and bodily responses. Your beliefs generate sadness, anxiety, anger, or guilt; prompt withdrawing, arguing, drinking, and avoiding; and produce stomach knots, tension, and rapid breathing.

Since your beliefs are the problem, the solution is to challenge them and bring them back in line with reality. You remain disturbed because you keep holding rigid, irrational beliefs. You must work to change those beliefs into more rational, flexible ones.

You can’t live on this planet very long without becoming a victim of someone’s abuse. It’s inevitable. The danger comes when you begin to play the victim.

Playing the victim allows you to gain sympathy. Poor you—you went through this or that. People feel sorry for you. You tell them your woes and your hurts, and you begin to feed off their sympathy.

What you may not see is that playing the victim makes you powerless. When you identify only as a victim, you give up your ability to take responsibility. Yet even a victim has a responsibility: the ability to respond. How you respond is a choice, and you are responsible for that choice.

It is those who take responsibility for their lives, even when they have been hurt or harmed by others, who have the power to change. You may not be able to stop others from hurting you, but you can learn to respond with wisdom and compassion. That is where your power lies. Do not exchange it for a pity party.

Forgiveness is a key that unlocks the prison you’re in. When you hold onto unforgiveness, the person who harmed you lives in your head, governs your reactions, and dominates your thinking. In that sense, you remain bound to the offender.

Unforgiveness allows the person to keep hurting you. It is like a sliver that burrows deeper over time. The more you dwell on the harm done, the worse you feel. It becomes a form of self-inflicted harm. By replaying the hurt, you deepen your own suffering.

The power of forgiveness is that it can set you free. It frees the mind and heart. To forgive does not mean to forget the offense; it means to release it. You no longer hold it against the person, and it no longer holds you.

Forgiveness is about your freedom. It does not mean what was done was right. It means you are larger than the wrong done to you. You let go of the offense, but you do not automatically restore trust. Forgiveness is a gift; trust is something that must be earned.

Strict non-dualism, such as Advaita Vedanta, teaches that only Brahman (the ultimate reality) truly exists. Nothing else is ultimately real. The world, other people, and all differences only appear to exist because of ignorance. They are not truly real, but illusory appearances without independent existence.

But if everything except Brahman is an illusion, then suffering, right and wrong, and personal responsibility would also be illusions. This creates a serious problem. If suffering is not real, why should we care about it? A view like this struggles to explain why ethics, compassion, and spiritual practice truly matter.

Although there is no question that Ultimate Reality is non-dual, there is no reason to deny the actual existence of the world. Both Being and Becoming can be real.

Qualified non-dualism offers a different, and arguably more grounded, view. It teaches that Brahman is one, but the world and individual souls are real events. They are not illusions, but are processes that flow from Ultimate Reality through its emanations.

This allows both unity and genuine difference to coexist. As a result, suffering, love, and moral responsibility are real and meaningful. It better reflects our lived experience and preserves the importance of ethics and compassion.

When discussing historical Deism, it is important to distinguish its early stages from its later ones. Early Deism was not a single, unified movement; as Wayne Hudson shows, there were many different kinds of Deism.

Early Deists believed in God, but not in the Christian conception of God or the pantheistic God of some philosophers. Their other religious beliefs varied. Some believed that God intervenes in the world, while others denied it. Only later did Deism become more unified.

The label “Deism” became a convenient term Christians could use for people who did not believe in the biblical idea of God. In some cases, people may have used the label “Deism” to avoid openly declaring more radical views. The risks of expressing religious dissent included persecution, loss of privileges, or even execution.

The problem is that the beliefs of actual Deists can get lost in the confusion. Add to that the fact that, in modern times, Deism is often reduced to a single definition, and the confusion is understandable. Only a deep study of Deism’s history can straighten that out.