The Revd Dr Nicholas Buxton is the CEO of the Society of the Sacred Mission, at St Antony's Priory, a Christian spirituality centre in Durham, and writes about religion, culture and contemplative spirituality. Books include Tantalus and the Pelican (2009), The Wilderness Within (2014) and Just Meditation (2020). His next book A Tale of Two Gardens is due to be published by Canterbury Press in 2026. He is an Anglican priest, has a PhD in Buddhist philosophy from the University of Cambridge, and is also an experienced meditation teacher and the founder of 'Just Meditation' and the Newcastle Meditation Centre (2016-20).

Mini Autobiography

I was born in Singapore, and grew up in London. After leaving school early (i.e. expelled), I went off the rails for a few years. During this time, I travelled a bit, had some jobs, tried to be an artist, and lived here and there, before finally getting it together and going to university as a so-called ‘mature student’.

Nine years and four degrees later I was ordained at Ripon Cathedral in 2008 to serve my curacy. From 2012-2018 I was Priest in Charge of the parish of St John the Baptist in Newcastle, where I was also the diocesan Church and Society Adviser.

In 2014 I started to develop a distinctive approach to the learning and practice of meditation that is simple, accessible and inclusive, which I called ‘Just Meditation’. This led to the establishment of the Newcastle Meditation Centre, the UK’s first independent high street meditation centre which, until its untimely closure as a result of lockdown restrictions in 2020, provided regular drop-in meditation classes, as well as a variety of courses and workshops related to mindfulness and meditation.

So, what’s this Substack all about?

Well, there are a couple of things. First of all, there’s the ‘big picture’ stuff – metaphysics, I suppose – or stuff about being itself, meaning and purpose, and the ‘point’ of it all. And then there’s stuff about being human, in particular, and how we do that, living together, which I guess is something to do with politics and society.

Both questions could be reduced to one, which used to be the central concern of philosophy: how do we live the good life?

So, when it comes to metaphysical questions, we might ask what it means to talk about creation, or a creator, for that matter? Well, either existence exists for a reason or it’s just a coincidence. I cannot possibly know, either way, but I reckon the best inference from the available evidence is that what is is meant to be. And, in any case, I’d rather live in a world that ultimately makes sense – in spite of all appearances to the contrary – than one that’s ultimately meaningless.

I also think this means that consciousness, rather than matter, is the fundamental and irreducible substrate of reality.

In other words, the bottom line is this: there is a fundamental intuition of being, an inexpressible awareness that is what is. I am and I know that I am. Of that we can be sure. This is a profound, unfathomable mystery.

The rest is stories.

So, does God exist? Yes, of course. The very question is absurd. Because we’re not talking about a ‘something’ that exists like you and I exist, but the ground of being itself. The word ‘God’ is the word we use to refer to that which is ultimately real and true, which is also somehow, therefore, the deepest reality of what we are. And even if we don’t believe that, there will be something that fulfils the same function in whatever sentences we use to make sense of what would otherwise be nonsense.

Human beings are storytelling creatures. We live our lives by, in and through stories. Just listen to any conversation – however mundane it might be – and you will find that it consists almost entirely of storytelling. Stories are what make us human and the means by which we articulate, signify and understand what it means, to us, to be human. Thus, the world as we experience it is a world not only mediated, but actually structured, by our stories of who we are, why we’re here, and what we’re meant to do about it.

To put it another way, it’s not a question of whether or not we are ‘religious’, but rather which story we choose to live by and be shaped by. And, contrary to postmodern dogma, some stories really are better than others.

That’s all well and good, you might think, but where does it leave us in the meantime between here and eternity?

Unfortunately, I think we’re in a pretty pickle right now. And not just for all the obvious reasons. It’s deeper than that. The problem is that when a society loses the glue that holds it together, it falls apart. That glue was what we now call the ’Christian tradition’. And whatever you may think of the admittedly sometimes hard to swallow tenets of the faith, its loss is no cause for rejoicing.

We are not living in a secular, enlightened utopia. Indeed, the very notion of the ‘secular society’ is highly misleading, at best. The old religion may have fallen out of favour, but this only means that our innate need for what religion provides – social cohesion, narratives of meaning and purpose – is being met by strange new apocalyptic cults, and their idolatrous creeds of ‘self’ and ‘choice’.

This is where we are now, and a fine mess we’re making of it too. Is there anything that can be done? Yes, we must hope so. For a start, we can retrace our steps and try and salvage some of what we have lost.