I have lived most of my life—especially the past three years—under the guiding principle that Secrets are Bad. My adherence to this wasn't perfect. For example, through the first 34 years of my life, I hid from my own consciousness my history of sexual abuse. But I have always attempted to return to Disclosure as a principle, as a way of living where you eventually reveal anything that you hold secret.

My emphasis on Secrets being Bad is partly rooted in the shock of recovering repressed memories of sexual abuse. If you haven't experienced this, I cannot begin to explain how unfathomable an experience it is. It's also rooted in my sense of wisdom and morality. Any energy expended toward Secrecy feeds the archetypal forces of Secrecy—forces that often support the abuse of innocence. "Don't tell anyone" is perhaps most commonly uttered after someone has sexually abused a child.

Praying to Ganesh to Break the Mind

"Secrets are Bad" lives in my mind as a Categorization: whatever has the trait of being a Secret also has the trait of being Bad.

I am named after the elephant-headed God in Hinduism, Ganesh. The word Ganesh means "the lord of Categories." My name, Vighnesh, means "the lord of obstacles". Both epithets for Him. The root "gana" in Ganesh refers to “categories”, the same root in the Sanskrit word for counting, "ganit." A classic question in Physics and metaphysics concerns whether phenomena are discrete or continuous. Categories emerge from the perceived discreteness of experience. What is discrete can be categorized and counted. Switch the "e" around and we get "discreet" to mean operating in secret.

The act of Secrecy creates a duality—an inner and an outer–an essential Categorization. In the realm of thoughts, there are no Secrets. Secrecy emerges when we choose what to speak and what to withhold. Emmanuel Swedenborg, in his text "Heaven and Hell," describes heaven's architecture as received through direct channeling from angels. He says that in heaven, thoughts are immediately spoken—there is no distinction between thoughts and speech. Writings like these are what I have relied on the reaffirm my own mental categorization of “Secrets are Bad”.

Ganesh is the lord of the root chakra, where you hold all your anxieties. Your evolution begins from the root, so one worships Ganapati at the start of any project, requesting all obstacles be removed. Now imagine a mind with walls spaced out, creating a grid of sorts, each section a mental Category. Quick, accessible categorizations allow the primitive brain to evaluate safety. Continual ensconcement in these mental categories can often lead to the kind of suffering that sets one off on a spiritual path. As you commence your spiritual work and pray to Ganesh to remove obstacles, you're essentially asking the lord of categories to break your own categorized mind.

Many spiritual awakening experiences are exactly that: a well-ensconced categorization breaks, and the mind becomes frighteningly free of that categorization's safety. A spiritual novice panics at this freedom. An experienced practitioner acknowledges the panic and comes alive in that momentary freedom, having just untethered themselves from the constriction of a mental category.

That's where I sit presently, after my experience last week, feeling hatred directed at me for openly supporting Trump in my community. I wonder if those who hate me know about the many community members who voted for Trump but keep it secret. I'm more aware now of my own categorization that "Secrecy is Bad" and wonder if my critics recognize their own "Trump is Bad" categorization. Perhaps the designers of democracy knew something that I didn’t when they implemented secret ballots as a part of the process and I am in appreciation of that choice of intentional secrecy.

Tracking Trump’s Dictatorial Tendencies

I don't hold myself to a "Trump is Good" categorization. I've watched carefully for dictatorial tendencies or unnecessary unkindness in his policy implementation. The strength and independence of his appointees—RFK Jr., Gabbard, Musk—contradicts what dictators typically do: hire subservient underlings. Vivek Ramaswamy showed the most tendency toward subservience to Trump, and he has moved back to Ohio. Vivek’s campaign stood out to me for its fawning over Trump—behavior I don't see from RFK Jr., Gabbard, or Musk. Their true appreciation comes from a place of strength, unlike fawning, which stems from trauma and a collapsed spine.

Regarding unnecessary harshness, I found Trump's deportation actions focused on swift efficiency. The flights to Colombia departed immediately, and negotiations were quick. The mass deportation seems necessary to reestablish national sovereignty, a concept that seems beyond the understanding of the critics of deportation, many of whom use “immigrants” and “illegal immigrants” interchangeably.

While it saddens me that many deportees are likely good people—though some are serious criminals—I have wondered about the feasibility of only deporting those with criminal records while pardoning the illegal entry itself. The challenge lies in efficiency. Distinguishing between deportees would require involving both ICE and the justice system to verify records. How do we track crimes without official identification? Those favoring this selective approach might not realize it could lead to the much prophesied “detention centers” as contrasted with swift deportation of those without legal residency papers, irrespective of whether they’ve committed hard crimes.

Standards & Boundaries

I find it difficult to discuss current American politics without exploring personal relationships. Politics, especially in a functioning democracy like the US, is essentially relationality at scale.

In my own relationships, I differentiate between standards and boundaries.

A standard represents a bar I want to uphold for the life I want to create. I invite people in my life to meet these bars and am open to spending energy guiding others to meet the bar.

For example, I hold a standard that humor I engage in should be uplifting rather than being at the cost of someone else, whether they are present or not. Do I always meet the standard?

Absolutely not. There are slip-ups. It's fun to laugh with a friend, making fun of a third that we both know. But the standard is something I will then try to reorient myself towards by having a conversation with the friend I connected with about the standard itself and where the connection drops short of it. And then ideally I'll find an opportunity to communicate directly to the human whose expense the humor was at and share a reflection focusing on the nugget of uplifting wisdom that underlies the gossipy mocking humor.

A boundary is a non-negotiable that I hold in relation to everyone. A boundary when transgressed is immediately named and enforced, as contrasted with a standard where there is room for guidance and conversation.

For example, a boundary I maintain is not tolerating relational anger, whether from me or towards me. When this happens, I deescalate the connection to renegotiate our engagement. If we were cocreating or being physically intimate, we pause those aspects and return to platonic friendship until we establish guardrails against future boundary violations.

We can debate whether this is a reasonable boundary. You might disagree, but that's not the point—this is my boundary. We can discuss it from within my boundary space. For eg, if you angrily yell at me for upholding my boundary, since that itself violates my boundary, I won’t engage with you on it. I alone decide my relational boundaries, and my power to enforce them comes from my ability to deescalate or fully disengage from relating. When disengaging because my boundaries aren't met, I try my best to help transition others from any support they might have received from my connection, helping them find alternative support within their existing circle–but not at the cost of being unable to enforce the boundary.

I see these same traits in Trump's approach to deportation. I view the border as a boundary, not a standard. Boundaries must be enforced as kindly as possible through deescalation or disengagement. Note here that enforcement supersedes the commitment to kindness. If someone attacks me in a bar, I'll defend myself as nonviolently as possible but I won’t be pausing to explain my nonviolence standard. Standards allow room for guidance; boundaries don't.

The border is a boundary.

Was ending my last two significant relationships and living arrangements painful because we weren't aligned? Of course—heartbreaking. Does my heart ache for innocent undocumented immigrants being sent back? Yes, it does. Is it still right? If you still have that question, I'd first ask how you handle extracting yourself from incompatible or abusive relationships.

What amazes me is that some who don't see this distinction have managed beautiful relationship endings. Perhaps their relational skill operates in a different Category than their political thinking?

Will our economy suffer from fewer workers? Probably—though I'm skeptical of specific percentages floating around. But consider this technical perspective: moving from local to global optimization in complex systems requires passing through a valley. One step back, two steps forward. Darkest before dawn. Evolution spirals upward. Good things come at a cost.

Was my last partner making the best masala chai I've had from an American woman? Absolutely. Did we enjoy cooking and cuddling together? Indeed. Was separating still right due to incompatibility? Yes.

Borders are boundaries. Let's enforce both kindly. Let's encourage others to grow from afar instead of trying to fix friends, lovers, and other nations by adopting them as our projects. Perhaps step outside the "Trump is Bad" categorization and consider whether his deportation approach might inspire better personal standards and boundaries for you.