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If Hume’s account is intended to be epistemic, then the Problem of induction can be seen as taking Hume’s insights about our impressions of necessity to an extreme but reasonable conclusion. Since the Problem of Induction demands that causal connections cannot be known a priori, and that our access is only to constant conjunction, the Problem seems to require the most crucial components of his account of necessity. First, there are reductionists that insist Hume reduces causation to nothing beyond constant conjunction, that is, the reduction is to a simple naïve regularity theory of causation, and therefore the mental projection of D2 plays no part. But invoking this common type of necessity is trivial or circular when it is this very efficacy that Hume is attempting to discover. Although Hume does the best that can be expected on the subject, he is dissatisfied, but this dissatisfaction is inevitable. Unfortunately, such a remedy is impossible, so the definitions, while as precise as they can be, still leave us wanting something further. And the whole point of that is that there shall be more birds still. So then, there is practiced throughout the world-rather more in Asia than here, although always by a minority of people-a discipline called meditation, which is to get in touch with reality.

We could say God is reality. What does God mean? Because, you see, music is peculiar, in that it is a marvelous pattern of sounds that doesn’t mean anything. Because, you see, I seem to be pitching it to you as if it were something good for you, as if it would give you a better future, as if it would improve you. Much more wonderful. But, you see, you can’t conceive reality. But in this you are released into reality. I would have to say that bottle caps and lids are probably the best free craft materials in our house. Kyrie eleison means: "Cyrus, have mercy on us." But you don’t have to think of God in that image. Because, of course, you’re all God in disguise. But it doesn’t mean that God is dead, that life is nothing more than a trip from the maternity ward to the crematorium. And so in the same way you can ask: what does a tree mean?

Well, we’ve got all kinds of weird theories that ferns exist in a certain way in order to propagate themselves. It’s your way of life. It’s an expanded present. We are therefore left in a position of inductive skepticism which denies knowledge beyond memory and what is present to the senses. I go because I think you'd feel happier than if I was left behind. Because when we talk of someone meditating, we think of deeply pondering about something. We talk sometimes about the practice of meditation as if it were like practicing the piano; preparing for a concert. It’s rather like music or dancing in that respect. There is some inferior music that means something; what we call program music, like the Tchaikovsky 1812 Overture, or some of Debussy’s perpetrations such as the Engloutie Cathedral, where it’s creating visual pictures or imitating natural noises: the beat of horse’s hooves or rollings of military drums and the sound of the waves, et cetera. A call at Meg's, and a refreshing sniff and sip at the Daisy and Demijohn, still further fortified her for the tete-a-tete, but when she saw a stalwart figure looming in the distance, she had a strong desire to turn about and run away.

If I were to identify myself with "Alan Watts," that would be identifying myself with a concept, with words-a rather complicated mess of words, to be sure, but still I would have made that mistake. Not, again, that thinking is something bad, but you have to stop thinking at certain times. The events of the previous evening had made me nervous and ill; I had tried to cure myself and attain to clear thinking by walking in the open air, but I was oppressed with a horrible presentiment of evil--a presentiment which I could not formulate. Effective energy-like, say, the energy of the ocean-always takes the path of least resistance. And so if you suddenly say, "But my life has no meaning! The social life of Santa Marina was carried on almost entirely by lamp-light, which the warmth of the nights and the scents culled from flowers made pleasant enough.

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