bell - a verbalization of consciousness

On Objective Morality

Referring to the passage on page 73 of Meetings with Remarkable Men

“Objective morality …is established by life and by the commandments given us by the Lord God Himself through His prophets, and it gradually becomes the basis for the formation in man of what is called conscience. And it is by this conscience that objective morality, in its turn, is maintained. Objective morality never changes, it can only broaden in the course of time. As for subjective morality, it is invented by man and is therefore a relative conception, differing for different people and different places and depending upon the particular understanding of good and evil prevailing in the given period.”

Question for discussion: What can we know of conscience, and how does it maintain objective morality?

What is the Nature of Writing?

“Straight ahead and strive for tone.” - Paul Desmond

The task of the writer is to bring forth a voice, to convey a sound. On the outside it is simply another form of expression —like painting a picture, carving a sculpture, performing theatre or playing an instrument. The artist in this case plays on meter, on cacophony, on euphany, on analogy. On another level, it is a discipline, demanding patience if one is to be satisfied with the outcome; and yet, maybe satisfaction is not the point. The discipline though is in funneling the richness and vastness of one’s experience through the intellectual center and to strike accord in the reader. Our challenge at the innermost level is to produce in language an echo of what is indescribable. This is a confrontation of what one “knows.”

What is Help?

Help my good friend is necessary! Man, alone and naked, is born unto this Earth in limitation. There are rocks we cannot lift, heights we cannot surmount, widths we cannot circumvent… without help! Authentic help furthers one’s reach in capacity; it is a collection of efforts that deliver extra-ordinary results. The need for help is honest. Our ability to provide help and our availability to receive it is our compass for community.

What is the nature of Prayer?

Without question a most difficult concept for me. Oddly, there is an underwhelming sensation of shame when I pray…. with others particularly; so much so that for many years I thought not to pray all together. The impulse, the aversion is so subtle, and my reaction so non-chalant, that I realize now how unavailable I have been to its import. When I explore this shame that I feel, I know there is inherently a reverence simultaneously for prayer; I can admit that prayer is a sacred gesture. For so long I was unsure of my understanding of God (still am to a degree) but consequently arose my uncertainty of prayer. When I think of the nature of prayer, I see how it is the unification of one’s actions with one’s aim. It is a returning to oneself. The result: a wish inward, outward or upward.

Good it too.

In the words of Cheng Zu:

If it is good, I good it.
If it is bad, i good it too.

Self Culture

Fragments from an entry unfinished from 06/02/2005:

We’re always too late for ourselves.

So many of us put so much pressure on ourselves to remain the same person, to maintain the same identity. The joy (and the burden) of human existence is our freedom to change, a freedom we are given, but a freedom we cannot avoid.

The Idea of Moon

Gurdjieff explained the idea of moon from a new direction.
Given, man is a microcosm that replicates all that exists in the cosmos.
A line from absolute to the moon exists in man.
A representation of the Absolute in man is full consciousness.
The effort to free oneself from identification creates a corresponding amount of free attention.
The presence of free attention in man is the second order representation of the absolute.
A foretaste of what is Full Consciousness.
The moon in man is sensation, a broken off part of original consciousness in man.
A part toward which man who wishes to work has primary Responsibility.
Sensation in man is the growing part of his innner cosmos.
The ray of creation extends from free attention to sensation.
Growth of being and growth of sensation is growth of moon in man that
requires particles of free Attention for growth of its atmosphere.
Sensation is the atmosphere of being.
No growth of being will take place without a corresponding prior growth in sensation.
Of course, when we apply the term growth to sensation we must understand that it
applies to the growth of the roots, not of what we might think of as leaves.
For example, sensation is not only skin (ie., leaves), but of the entire inner structure,
including skeleton, muscles, and organs as well.
In lifting an arm, everything on the other side of intention is sensation.
Man must be able to radiate particles of free attention from
the moment an intention enters his bloodstream and neuorlogical system to the action.
The work on sensation is the infrastructure of being.
No growth of being is possible without a corresponding prior growth in sensation.

On Listening...

Fragments of an unfinished entry from 10/18/2006:

Asking questions is a kind of virtue. Well, in it’s original intent. It demands three parts: one, a reservation of speech; two, an acute attention to the reply of another; and three, a genuine interest in one’s own understanding or to further the understanding of another. It’s quite easy to fail in any of these three areas.

For example, perhaps, one asks a question only to hear himself speak. Perhaps, a man asks a question to patronize the knowledge of another person, to show only his own brilliance and yet his boundless vanity. Perhaps, says he has a question, but only to reveal the absence of his presence by the multi-layers of his perogative and to continue speaking about a matter without ever really arriving at a question.

False Love

In my sleep, my heart begins to race a mile a minute, and my pores begin to sweat. A cold heat comes over me, and as my heart sinks, my brain locks up, simply unable to continue with its routine output of even positivity. As my bare arms begin to tightly clench my chest, my own fingers quiver like never before, and i begin to wish the comfort of a deep sea, enveloping me into its abyss, gently lowering me to its lonely bottom sands.

Ooh, I am not myself, Lord. Forgive me for the pain I endure, and the sufferings I cannot let go, for in this moment, I am no longer thinking of the Good, nor of Hope, nor of Love… I have become identified in jealousy— and in this moment i know nothing else. For now, and for my eternity as I see it, all is unclear.

I have seen his face, quite like mine, and yet, nothing like me at all. We are two simple men, from different corners of the earth, and have come to agree in the most purest of forms; ours is an agreement on love, not for eachother, but for a common other. Because of him, I have come to discover a plot beneath my own that changes my own landscape. It is as if we both love two different sides of the same object, and despite what we might think, neither one of us has the whole. We are in a tug of war, and only the rope endugles. To me, this man’s purpose on this earth is entirely my projected prerogative. To me, he is a dark reflection of all that I am, all that I desire, and all that I will be… simply because he yearns for the very same darling that i have sought, the same madam that has mended my wounds and quenched my thirst for love for so many years. I’ve often wondered what against I’ve been tugging all this time to win her complete affection, and what a worthy foe he must be, for I have struggled so. We want so much the same, he and i, that i despise his persistence in as much as I value my own. I did not want to carry his image with me for the rest of my days, but having uncovered him, i now will, and he will forever be forged in my heart and my crippled soul as that which has taken away from the sanctity of my most prized Love.

A better man, a truer lover, may ask me if i have really stumbled upon Love given that simple fact that i am so easily troubled by the eye of another, who lusts for my lover only never to have her as i do. In response to which, i bequeath in agreement with tears of fear and trepidity. With suspicion eating me away from the inside, can I be certain he does not have her like I do? I am the fool, it seems. Perhaps I have not loved enough. Perhaps I have not given due cause for our love to walk in proud cadence. My eyes spent so far forward, I pity my own self for missing something in the Present of it all…. Such a door left open allows for the avant curious types to pursue, and yes, yes, perhaps love is a fight and a negotiation, something needed to stand the test of time, a heave and twist of relentless tugging, and here, in my naivete, I have mistakenly taken for granted our love, thinking it smooth and unabashed and unwavering. I have the power to make a choice in the matter, and yet, should I gracefully bow out of the way, the weaker in me wonders if this secret admirer would take better care of the love that she deserves. From these inner depths of projection, and to my conscious dismay, I cannot know in truth whats best for me; but alas, my overwhelming conscience knows i care most in whats best for her, that she is happy, safe in the strong arms of Eros.

Can i never forgive him, for I know now that he knows nothing of me?… and if he should know a little of me, its clear to me that he has received fractured truths, half pictures, and my place in each picture is purposefully absent. This is the way my Love wanted it. Two lives she lives, and both are fabrication so long as the one exists side-by-side to the other. Ooh, i feel so hollow now. So round, and vague. I’ve been strung along and entertained for a year and my despair works backwards in time and in memory. How quickly i can be cut out of a storyline….

But alas, i realize I am asleep. He is only a dream; a figment of my imagination, never to have ever existed in truth… i think.

Moving Meditations

If there is a god, he wants that we trust each other… or he wouldn’t have asked that his message be passed between generations.

Why is there so much personality in the world? … Birds, the way they whistle; Dogs, the way they bark; Cats, the way they stare… the list goes on. Is the one thing that makes us human the fact that we can wrestle with our inner selves?

Because we exist, there must be a reason. And believing that there is a reason, this is faith. Faith before even knowing the reason for why one is here. ~the Shivapuri Baba & JG Bennet

When I consider the lack of cooperation in human society, I can only conclude that it stems from ignorance of our interdependent nature. ~Dalai Lama

SELF-ATTENTION: it means being attentive to whatever is outside of you, while at the same time, holding an awareness of yourself observing the phenomenon. It’s not getting lost in the parade before you rise. An example: You’re sitting out by a river, it’s a beautiful sunny day. The river is floating by, and you see debris—various things floating along in the river. You let them float by, you gaze at the river. While you’re doing so, you’re aware of the feeling of your body, the sun on your face. You’re aware of your breathing, you’re aware of your feelings—that’s double attention.

Single attention, the wrong kind of attention, is now there’s an object floating in that river going by, and you fixate your attention on that object. Now you are no longer aware of that sun on your face, the feel of the grass under your feet. No longer aware of your breathing, no longer aware of your body. You’re completely fixated on “what is that object, floating down the river?” That’s what most people call attention, and that’s actually “stopping your mind.” And when you do so, you’re in your stall consciousness, you’re in “stall mind.” And, when you do so, the “Law of Accident” applies to you. ~James J. Traitz

Four types of suffering

• In “Talks on Beelzebub’s Tales”, Bennett distinguishes four types of suffering - Unnecessary Suffering, Unavoidable Suffering, Voluntary Suffering and Intentional Suffering. Lets have a look at each of these to see if they can help our understanding:

The first is Unnecessary Suffering. This would be the type of suffering that we incur because of our unreasonable attitudes and expectations towards others, from our ill-will, hatred and rejection of others, from doubt, possessiveness, arrogance and self pity. In other words, suffering arising from our self-importance.

The second is Unavoidable Suffering. This would be the type of suffering that comes to us by accident or from events beyond our control, such as interpersonal conflicts, war, disaster, disease or death.

Third, we have Voluntary Suffering. This would be the type of suffering that we take upon ourselves in order to accomplish a personal aim, such as an athlete who disciplines himself to win a race, or a student who labours to get good grades.

And finally we have Intentional Suffering. According to Bennett, this would be the kind of suffering that we take upon ourselves in order to accomplish an impersonal or altruistic goal, one that is directed more towards service to others or to the Work, and not for any personal gain. Bennett assumes that this is what Gurdjieff & Ouspensky meant by Intentional Suffering.

Ouspensky certainly seems to recognize the general necessity of suffering, as indicated by this remark from his book ‘In Search of the Miraculous’:

“To destroy suffering would mean, first, destroying a whole series of perceptions for which man exists, and second, the destruction of the ‘shock,’ that is to say, the force which alone can change the situation.” (In Search of the Miraculous, p. 308)

… That is to say, the idea of “destroying” suffering has a dual difficulty. On the one hand, suffering is something embedded in ourselves that we most struggle to let go of, in the sense that we grow attached to our suffering—we grow attached to our habits in such a way that we almost prefer to suffer as we do, and to our own detriment, of course. And yet, on the other hand, as much as we must rid ourselves of certain unnecessary sufferings, suffering alone is what can “shock” us, or “awaken” us to those very things that we must change about ourselves…

Hamlet: "to be or not to be?"

That’s a very good question, young Hamlet.

Before anything else, we encounter the question of ‘being’ verse
‘becoming,’ stemming originally from the Aristotelian problem of the
“One & the Many.” One can only ask: will we be forever what we be,
merely fortified and hardened by the test of time; is life just
recognizing our inflexibility; a learning to live with ourselves, per
se? Or conversely, is our selfhood subject to the nature of becoming,
a psychological progression of sorts; is there something to be said
for the possibility of a transcendental change, an (esoteric) (metaphysical)
evolution? How do we make sense of this paradoxical paradigm? A
leap. We must take a leap. With patience, I assert: “Becoming is our
savior.” Our promise. Our inspiriation to keep striving. And in
these ways, “to be” is stagnation, that is, to “not become”.

Hamlet, I answer: “Not to be.” Unless, of course, you tell me that
“being IS becoming”…. then how could I disagree? And therefore,
what follows is the largest, most tangible question one could ever ask:
“How shall I become?”

Space, the Final Frontier

Today, life has become a bit smaller. A bit narrower. The scope, the breadth of contact between me and others feels a bit more remote. Not all of us, but many of us in life spend much of our time reaching out. Hanging on to great friends and reminicing about great moments with those people who have otherwise gone on to grow and move away, in different directions. With that kind of separation there becomes a difference in time, in dimension. Some of our “closest” friends, upon closer examination, are light-years away… We are left only to wonder, periodically, about their state, and left to hope that all is right, and healthy, and vibrant for them.

But should our two worlds collide, on impulse or by happenstance, by phone call or drop-in visit, we experience a flutter of exctacy. We are embraced in our memories for one another, and for a moment, the world feels vast and whole, all at the same time. How lucky are we to live in such a small world?!!!! How thrilling it is to see you again, it seems like just yesterday(!) when last we… fill in the blank—

But for me, today, life was quite the opposite. Vacant, you might say. It wasn’t that I wasn’t content. No, that’s not it at all. Just small. Life today was just narrow. The scope, the breadth of my interactions was so small. No one really to reach out to today. No one with whom I felt any real, or noticeable kind of penetration. I could have been alone, in a small remote jungle camp, and easily felt as serene and isolated. A real feeling of solitude came over me, and I realized that so many of my favorite, closest, most loveable friends and family members were so very far away. Eugene, Seattle, Albequerque, Wisconsin, Oklahoma, New York, DC, London… the list goes on.

Perhaps it was the Thanksgiving withdrawl, acting up. Yes, maybe that was it— having been overloaded and blessed with good family and good cheer for just a brief weekend, perhaps I was yearning for that same kind of blissful, interactive ease that emerges when the people in our hearts get together from all over the world for some momentous occation. Yes, that was probably it. Such a shame that today there was just so much space between me and the people I love most….

Reinventing the Feel...

I think I’m dying inside. I can’t tell though. Life is heavy right now, and MM may have said it best, “we’re all in survival mode right now, and those modes might be clashing a little bit.” But that doesn’t excuse the anguish I bring upon myself and on others. So, I need to reel it in, and use my words. I can feel it now… I’m afraid to Feel.

I can’t seem to wrap my head around myself. And perhaps we can’t be expected to do so at every moment of every day. But the fact still remains that I can feel moments where I keep tiny secrets from myself. Moments where I have a feeling, or position, and avoid it, discard it. And as the rich trail of my emotional debris lingers in its own wake, I am a tortured inner world, who thinks it better to not expose my pain than to feed the ear of another, for another’s sake. It seems since the dawn of the Romans, we can’t help but thirst for Others’ suffering, to lick our lips when a friend is down. The sympathy we often share with eachother is nothing more than raw fabrication, mixed with a slight sadistic joy— the listener lends an outside frown that’s inside felt completely upside down… Almost sinister when you think about it, isn’t it?

I remember why I first took to writing down my thoughts. I knew my need for admittance, to struggle patiently with the thought. Staring at the words I choose, as my intellect tears apart my emotional gut. Ivan Osokin says life is circular, and that we never quite run away from our old selves. I think what tortured Ouspensky in his last years was how, in all is growth, he never changed— the root of his emotional shortcomings never fully were removed. What a pity and a pain to be so prolific, and yet so myopic all at once.

unfinished…

Diatribe Seven: Waking Up.

It’s been a long time coming now…. making the moment to sit down and write. Here I am, in Mother England, Land of the Queen. I have a job, a great place to live, the weather is good, I have more opportunities than I have time, and here I am again, to find myself as far away from home as what felt like my first move to Seattle and again to Costa Rica; and so I ask myself: “What does it mean to travel?” … What does it mean to be away from home, family, and friends? To know that time keeps ticking, and that as much as I am in the hearts and minds of those I love, and they in mine—what does it mean to admit that our lives are incomprehensively separate? We put a great trust in the world that familiar faces and familiar landscapes will always be there for us to return to… But when I look into the eyes of wrinkled, withered faces that I pass on the street, I wake up to our mortality. They are old. I am young. What am I doing with my life? If I should stop a moment to ask them, would my living live up to the advice they would heed me? …Choices. How incredibly true. My mother was right… opportunities come and we consult the dreamer inside us, and then we weigh in the fear, our current comfort and last, the lethargy— and either we leap! … or, we sleep. Everyone’s got advice. But who’s really listening to your story? You’re alone in your thinking, unless you’ve got a partner, and if that’s the case, I hope you two take on the world together, instead of playing games and telling make-believe. It’s half a bunch of rubbish—the deadlines, the paperwork, the long queues, the littered streets, the fast-paced never-ending days… Can we remember the other half? What about the scenic sights earned after a long hike? What about your hands in the soil? … dirt under your nails as you put a few inches between each seed? What about your bare feet in the grass and your head in the clouds? …. I remember going skinny dipping, at dusk, and the water so frigid. I remember getting off a plane once, with anxious nerves running from my toes to my fingertips, as I searched the crowd until I laid eyes on my most beautiful girlfriend and her special smile as she awaited my arrival. I remember horseback riding at a gallup and skipping rocks in both oceans. I remember dancing, and losing myself in a melodic series of swirling and twisting. I’ve swum in the biggest great lakes, and I’ve listened to Loon orchestras under a moonlit sky. In the wild, I’ve seen black bears and beavers, wild otters and blue whales… I’ve seen dolphins and eagles, alligators and giant snails. … but when I sit on this train, or this tube, or this plane, who knows where I’ve been? Who knows my story? … No one. I am alone in my thinking, and as I make the rare moment to drift into the reflective, who knows what I’ve already allowed myself to forget. How do I begin to qualify? I’m a traveler on a little ride called ‘Earth’, but how do i tell my story?… Not the story for all the tomorrows or all the yesterdays, but the story for now. How do I do? What do I remember? Is it the kind things? The pretty things? The breathtaking things? The frightening things? The proud moments? The pleasurable moments? There’s plenty of ways to give up on it all. To give up on the effort. In the newspaper everyday I read of people who do so, and turn their back on the physical world, turn their back on the living spirit inside us all. Just yesterday, a suited London businessman sailed 8 floors, from the window of his private office above to the rooftop of a public bus below, exploding on impact, and ending his story. But many of us do this in other ways, we bring about the same kind of death—> when we tell the same story for too long, when we never remember our memories…. when we give council before console. When we forget to watch. When we forget to wake up. When our story never gets told because our story never got started…

The Jedi Code

As I write this thesis, devoting every waking moment I can manage to its progression,
I must remember the Jedi Code, and find in it strength and clarity of thought…

There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
There is no death; there is the Force.

… just 16 days until it’s due… Lord-a-mercy!

"Quest for Life"

[… written when I was 19 years old…]

— quest for life —

“To me, life is not given, it is created. I create my life. And the life I create is not a goal or an objective or a reachable endpoint. Life is a journey. I walk this journey alone, for myself and all those whom I know, and meet along the way.

At birth, I have no essence; I merely exist for the first time—whether it be due to God, Fate or entropy. Knowing that my existence precedes my essence comes a responsibility to create my own essence, my own life. This is no easy quest. I, in order to better serve myself, must understand man kind. Who better to understand man kind than man himself? Therefore, I am obligated to spend my existence comprehending the endless spectrum of human kind. My quest is to construct the best possible path of life while considering how my path affects all those around me. I am responsible for every action I take. There are no excuses. If I create my own essence, on whom else will I place the blame?

I must seek the answers, I must dig and sift through my experiences so that I will be proud of myself when I die. I am my own worst critic. My quest for life has no concern for death. I don’t believe or expect anything after death except eternal unconscious. If there exists any form of consciousness after death—be it heaven, hell or the like— I will be impressed, but I don’t expect it. I have no expectations in life. And I still stay motivated. I still stay optimistic and I will always love my journey for life. Perhaps my essence will provide some insightful tips about mankind for mankind. That’s all I can ask for. As for me, and my quest for life — I know that everything will work out for the best.”

Giving Eachother "Time"

We’ve lost the ability to give others time. We expect all interactions to be specific, clear and concise… doing little more than mindlessly running our own mouths, and genearlly at the expense of really listening to another person. But often our most honest and insightful perspectives are slow to assemble, and require a kind of engaging or wrestling. For this we need to be patient with ourselves. And in conversation, this can be most difficult.

Thinking is not always easy, and feeling is often more difficult, yet we take these processes for granted… interrupting others as their disposition forms, or giving up on ourselves, abandoning the effort to really conjure true sentiment. With such haste, we often misrepresent ourselves, our position, or our information. Our whole relationship to ourselves is at stake, if not to others. Though, with superficial conversing we often make commitments to others that we don’t keep, or say things that we don’t mean, and in this very real way, our relationship with others is additionally at stake.

If we cannot fully be honest/genuine when interrogating ourselves, how can we ever expect to really know and understand ourselves? The truth is we cannot. We instead become imitations of who we want to be, or automatons of our own habitat to regurgitate half-hearted nonsense, at the expense of really knowing who we are, how we really treat other people, what we really believe, and how we act on those beliefs. Worst of all, we can never truly maintain the imitation, the facade for long…

It is best to give ourselves time— to be patient with ourselves— particularly in conversation, because these are moments where the talking often moves so quickly that we forget to be present. And if we can strive to give ourselves time, perhaps we can learn to give others time as well. And slowly, over time, others will know that you are someone with whom they receive enough time to be honest.

Defining Accurate 'Consideration'...

GE: You say that: philosophy of consciousness, simply, is the pursuit of wisdom about the self— about the reaches of our understanding, addressing the difficulties in our perceptions and the possibility of cultivating accurate ‘consideration’ for those things around us.

I would like to think I have some sort of consideration for the things around us.

AB: I too think you have accurate, and often authentic consideration. Certainly, more than most.

GE: What do you mean by consideration?

AB: It requires experience and reflection, among other things. P.D. Ouspensky will say it requires ‘New Knowledge’ and a ‘Special School’.

It’s a term I need to define. I will work towards a better definition, but of course the ‘accuracy’ is in HOW one considers. Proper consideration begins after one has understood fully their own habits of perspective.

Each of us falls victim to our own habits— habits of action, habits of thought, habits of relations— and it takes much Work to begin to recognize our own conditioning, our own confounding.

For this Work, you will need a teacher. I can converse with you, and point you to better readings, but these can only prepare your lexicon for more accurate self-study. Such readings will prepare you to be more precise in language with your experience. But with a teacher, you will have an opportunity to learn new knowledge, you will receive instruction on more levels of being. Conversation is organic, and in the midst of a teacher and in the company of other students, you will more accurately be able to self-study.

Only then, after prolonged self-study, will one be able to most accurately ‘consider.’ Why? Because only then will one see things as separate from their own desires and imagination. And only then can one’s consideration be sovereign thought.

GE: How do you reconcile the positive experience of consciousness and
self-cultivation with feeling the pain of the world?

Well, this is no easy task, as you clearly know from your travels. My thesis is hoping to inspire an urgency in those who have the freedom to Work on themselves. It is a rarity that (1) people are given ample freedom to congregate, discuss and strive for self-cultivation, and that (2) people are interested enough and determined enough to put forth the constant energy and attention required for self-cultivation. Surely ANYONE can do it! But some create impossible circumstance, while others fall victim to it.

But rest assured, the first step to reconciling this predicament is one’s own self-improvement. For now, your travels and your recognition of the ‘pain of the world’ can serve to enlarge what Ouspensky calls your ‘magnetic center.’ The magnetic center is essentially the desire in you to self-study, the desire to learn to live to your fullest potential. Some are completely oblivious to empathy. The deep-souled, however, find the ‘pain of the world’ as a compelling source for motivation.

NOTE: A better word might be ‘contemplate’, especially since Ouspensky has a particularly negative association for the term ‘considering’. This, of course, is a translation issue, but I will have to be clear to delineate in all future writings. For now, ‘considering’ will have to do. ;)

Consciousness Philosophy

I’ve finally finished all of my classes for my MA in philosophy, and I’m finishing up my thesis paper this term. It’s going to be a 4 chapter paper on several aspects of consciousness philosophy, and when it’s done, I’ll let you know. In the mean time, I’ll try to address your inquiry: what is Consciousness Philosophy?

Well, let me say that ‘philosophy’ is derived from the latin, meaning ‘love of wisdom’. So in this sense, philosophy is strictly an out-focused operation… a love OF something. I mean to say that it is consideration FROM the person out TOWARDS something else, be it politics, or economics, or social behavior and consideration of these things lends itself to particular interests in things like morals, ethics, ownership, human rights, national sovereignty, etc.

In fact, much of philosophy struggles to determine how reliable it is to be such an out-focused enterprise. Questions arise, such as, “what mechanisms and/or experiences allow one to make such a consideration?,” “how accurate are the considerations we can make?” and “can anyone similarly make or understand a consideration made by another person?”

Consciousness Philosphy shifts all the gears around, it turns the entire operation back upon itself. From the self, one confronts the self. I mean to say that philosophy of consciousness, simply, is the pursuit of wisdom about the self— about the reaches of our understanding, addressing the difficulties in our perceptions and the possibility of cultivating accurate ‘consideration’ for those things around us. But of course, this involves confronting instruction from others, and in this way, understanding the self requires innerconnectivity.

There are several traditions of thought that insist that one cannot accurately see outward if one has not worked on his inner self. Such philosophers assert that we are not single selves, but rather conglomerations of many different personalities, with many different—and often conflicting!—interests. For example, one personality in us might decide that its best to get to bed before 11pm everyday, while another personality thinks its best to hit the bars late whenever the opportunity should present itself. In this way, our perceptions outward are always biased or fragmented, and until there is inner unity in the person, one cannot properly (fully) consider his surroundings or his place therein .

Time and time again a feeling of ‘unsettledness’ arises in us. Perhaps we feel unsettled in our bodies, or in the way we think, or in our relationships, or in the world in general. The older we get, the feeling grows and becomes more present, until suddenly we’re on our deathbed making a list of regrets in our minds, never fully having understood the trials of life and waiting fearfully for the moment when our eyelids blink their last.

Inner work on the self is said to alleviate the pain of all three (regrets, lack of understanding, and fear of death). It is observed that nature develops man to a certain point, and further development requires one’s own efforts; tragically, most people squabble in complacency, never knowing that more is in our potential, or some recognize this potential yet never make the right efforts. The first step of inner work is necessarily linked with attention. Attention is the only act of will that one can cultivate in such a low developmental state. Attention is the tool that allows for self-study. Self-study must occur before one can make any strides towards development. This area of philosophy is often referred to as “self-culture” or “self-cultivation”.

Consciousness Philosophy is like the brainstorming stage for this entire human predicament. It situates one deep within the history and tradition of all the work and the considerations made regarding consciousness, around the globe (east, west, etc). However, philosophy only takes you so far. Once the philosophy has taken its root in the student, s/he only has one thing to do: practice.

Understanding and wisdom then, is the result of practice.

In closing, Consciousness Philosophy shows the need for practice, and further, it cultivates momentum, for the student will one day feel unmistakeable urgency for practice. In my work, I also explore the very exercises that constitute ‘practice’, but for now, all I will say is that it all begins with attention—how to open one’s attention, prolong it, and use it for self-study

(…taken from an email to an old college friend in the marines, Darren Riley…)

On Knowledge...

an excerpt…

“You know by now it is no use accumulating more knowledge. It is really, particularly, what has made our living so complex. We have got a good deal of knowledge about a great many different things. We feel bound to follow a great many different interests. We have even found the most difficult knowledge to get. You hear about it and, to a certain extent, master it. It makes you proud of having the knowledge, but it doesn’t affect your weekly living.

We don’t want to be proud. We want to be happy. This means to do what I intend to do [or in general, ‘to do what one intends to do’]. The one thing that makes me unhappy is to do something I don’t intend to do. Then, to face it, you have to justify and rationalize, “Really it has worked out for the best.” In a way it is out of this that all the muddle and confusion has arisen.

The question really is how to introduce some element of the idea of will—of intention—into my life. You are right, I can’t control my attention. But, unless every day I can come to an experience of carrying out my intention, I shan’t be able to work with hope, because this knowledge [of coming to an experience of carrying out one’s intention] is knowledge about how to do, because work on being means work on doing. That is what it means to be a [hu]man—to be able to do.

So I come back to my experience again and again. What can be, for me, an act of will? It would have to be something very small because I can’t even control my attention. Maybe even to be able to not miss the meetings is something. Even those of us who have just started [the work] see how things get in the way. You have to give up some of your interests, even for one hour a week. Maybe just to do the work, the exercise that is given, is a sort of act or will. But, it doesn’t really satisfy me because I see I may sit down to do this work but I don’t really do it. I can’t control my attention. So what, for me, can be, within my possibility, an act of will?”

…from Lord John Pentland’s book, Exercises Within, collected and transcribed from his meetings with students. (p.50-51)

Personal Identity: Interrogating the Self

- a dialogue between David Hume and P. D. Ouspensky -

Disclaimer: the voice of Mr. O, represents a conglomerate between and Mr. Ouspensky

Mr. Hume: “I may venture to affirm of the rest of mankind, that they are nothing but a bundle or collection of different perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and movement.”[1] At every moment where I direct my attention to my perception, I am overcome with pain and pleasure, grief and joy, passions and sensations, all of which succeed each other and never seem to occur at the same time. They come and go, wax and wane, and I am forced to conclude that there is no single impression of the self to be ascertained.[2]

Mr. O: I agree; this is the present state of man.

Mr. Hume: I do, however, acknowledge that these thoughts are similar, and often appear in succession, but I do not see reason here to assert that there is any single notion of ‘self’ beyond these many perceptions. It may be true that each impression I have makes reference to the self, but yet, I am unable to observe this connection. Consequently, there is no such idea of the self.

It is quite clear that any person who would believe otherwise, has confused these perceptions as having a relation, and thus mistakenly treats them as a unity. In history, we invalidly infer causation to link certain circumstances, namely ‘causes’, to explain certain occurrences, namely ‘effects.’ In this same way, with matters of personal identity, we infer that the history of our thoughts is cause for one unified personality. However, this is untrue. All of these many impressions “are different, and distinguishable, and separable from each other, and may be separately considered, and may exist separately, and have no need of any thing to support their existence.”[3] Therefore, we have no clear reason to determine that all perceptions belong to the self, and to think otherwise cannot be explained by proof.

Mr. O: My dear Mr. Hume, you are quite perceptive. In my philosophy, we call this ‘lying.’ It comes in many forms and one cannot escape from making these wrongful conclusions in his/her present state. In general, lying is thought of as “speaking about things one does not know, and even cannot know, as though one knows and can know.”[4] People pretend they know about many things: about God; about the future life; about the universe; about the origin of man; about evolution; even, and especially, about themselves.[5]

Mr. Hume: I perfectly agree! For years, I have labored to show, philosophically, why man cannot know these things with certainty.

Mr. O: Let us consider matters of the last type, lying to and about oneself, for this is the most important place to begin. This kind of lying is the idea that man thinks himself a single, unified personality, that he is conscious; when really he is not. In fact, the more one thinks he is free from lying, the more one is in it!

All of mankind is susceptible from three illusions. Allow me to explain. First, ‘man thinks he already possesses self-consciousness at any time.’ Second, ‘man also thinks he already has everything one can have.’ Last, ‘man thinks he can get anything by himself; in truth, by oneself one can get nothing.’[6] Truth be told, to acquire new abilities, a school with other students and instructors will eventually be necessary. But let me keep from getting ahead of myself.

Mr. Hume: Then allow me to interject—on your first point, I’ve also shown this to be true, as any such conclusion fails to pass the logical test. On your second point, I am a bit confused at what you are suggesting, but I’ve always thought, “that a human body is a mighty complicated machine, that many secret powers lurk in it which are altogether beyond our comprehension, that to us it must often appear very uncertain in its operations,”[7] but beyond this I dare not venture. I will however admit that there is much to gain from one’s work with others. “The mutual dependence of men is so great in all societies that scarce any human action is entirely complete in itself or is performed without some reference to the actions of others.”[8] In these regards, I understand you.

Mr. O: Well, I must remind you that these are three illusions that all men make equally. And I attest, that you are absolutely right, Mr. Hume, that in our original state, man is merely a conglomerate of many and different personalities, each claiming to represent the whole. However, I have a larger point to put across, and I am astonished at your usage of the word ‘machine.’ Even these many personalities themselves are only fragments of consciousness, never really fully conscious themselves, and this is a distinction I hope to make over and against perception. Man, with his many fleeting perceptions, if never conscious of the production of such perceptions, is restrained by a state I call ‘mechanicalness.’

“If you ask a man if he is conscious or if you say to him that he is not conscious, he will answer that he is conscious, and that it is absurd to say that he is not, because he hears and understands you.” And he will be quite right, although at the same time quite wrong. This is nature’s trick. “He will be right because your question or your remark has made him vaguely conscious for a moment. Next moment consciousness will disappear. But he will remember what you said and what he answered, and he will certainly consider himself conscious.”[9] Tell me, Mr. Hume, what does the phrase ‘personal identity’ imply to you?

Mr. Hume: This is precisely where I struggle, Mr. O. “When I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always stumble on some particular perception or other… I never catch myself at any time without a perception.”[10] In this way, because of the sequence that follows from impression to impression, there is an interruption between every perception, making a coherent notion of identity seem quite impossible. If I should stretch my imagination a bit farther, it’s as if the “mind is a kind of theatre, where several perceptions successively make their appearance; pass, re-pass, glide away.”[11] I would imagine then, that the personal identity would be constituted more similarly to the concept of the ‘theatre’, where, throughout all of one’s lifetime, there remains an ‘invariable and uninterrupted’ state of the mind.[12] This would constitute an inner ‘simplicity’ or ‘sameness,’ an inner unity of sorts. “The only question, therefore, which remains is, by what relations this uninterrupted progress of our thoughts is produced.”[13]

But again, I must insist, the self in this sense, cannot exist. We are dealing with “successive perceptions only, that constitute the mind; nor have we the most distant notion of the place, where these scenes are represented, or of the materials, of which it is composed.”[14] We only imagine this through ‘resemblance.’ “The frequent placing of these resembling perceptions in the chain of thought… make the whole seem like the continuance of one object.”[15] Memory, when left to itself[16], rests in a default behavior, inferring this imaginary inner unity. This seems to be the kind of lying that you are talking about. I have verified this in myself, and “all the nice and subtile questions concerning personal identity can never possibly be decided.”[17]

Mr. O: I think you’ve raised a good question, Mr. Hume. The problem with your conception of self is that you have relied on your own introspection. But as I am sure you are aware, what other method of verification does one have but his own experience? However, let us not forget the third illusion. When you introspect, you are unable to find any kind of inner unity. It also appears to me that you seem to have never worked on yourself. Without work, man is merely a machine, acting and behaving without control over your responses to external circumstances or internal stimuli (impressions).

What if I tell you, Mr. Hume, that there is much work that can be done on the self? This is work that can be verified by your own empirical observation, but from the instruction of others must such work come; Conscious work, that will unify your many bundles of perceptions, and allow you to generally be more ‘aware,’ ‘awake,’ ‘present,’ ‘conscious.’ Do you understand what I mean to describe by these terms?

Mr. Hume: Yes I believe so. Tell me more about this distinction between conscious and non-conscious so I can be sure.

Mr. O: Regardless of which bundle of personality is at the helm of our functioning, we often run on a sort of ‘auto-pilot,’ where the mind is not really present to itself during certain activities, is not aware of itself. There are four states of consciousness. The first is ‘Sleep.’ This is the lowest and most passive state. All psychic functions in man without direction nor logic. Man is clouded in dreams and imagination, reflecting on past experiences or imagining possibilities of the future. In such a state, man is consciously not present. He may be riding a bike, daydreaming, while unaware of the perception of his hand on the handlebars or his foot on the pedal. The second is ‘Waking State.’

This second degree of consciousness is where man awakes, and has a critical attitude toward his impressions and sensations. He has more connect thought, and more disciplined actions. He might recognize contradiction or impossibility in his desires and feelings. However, it is important to note that when the waking state arrives, ‘sleep’ does not altogether disappear. As with the case of the man whom we’ve asked ‘are you conscious?,’ he may be awake for a moment, only to slip back into dreams in the next. Or as with the biker, he may begin to have awareness of his grip or his pedaling in one moment, only for that awareness to pass in the next. From these examples, I hope you are able to see that man, in his current state, is mechanically trapped to consciously roam between sleep and waking state.

The third state is ‘Self-consciousness,’ yet no man is born into this state. It requires work. This is the state where man becomes objective to himself. It involves inner unity, will, invariable individuality, and a permanent sense of “I.” This is precisely the place where personal identity is achieved, and precisely what all people mistakenly believe they already possess. In truth, the achievement of such a state requires long and hard work. But I insist from my own experience, that the passage between states, especially between Sleep and Waking State can be observed and verified through your own introspection. There is a fourth state, called ‘Objective Consciousness’ which can ultimately be achieved. But I do not believe such an ultimate state of consciousness can rest in the mind of the individual. A group is necessary, viz. a group of people who have all worked on themselves. In this way, I suppose higher consciousness is reserved for mass effort, since it involves the interrelations of others.

Let us then, focus on the achievement of this third state, the state of self-consciousness, since it stands between our current state, and the higher, fourth state. The question arises, “is it possible to acquire command over these fleeting moments of consciousness, to evoke them more often, and to keep them longer, or even make them permanent? In other words, is it possible to become conscious?… For with right methods and right efforts man can acquire control of consciousness, and can become conscious of himself, with all that it implies. And what it implies we in our present state do not even imagine.”[18]

Mr. Hume: I see your point clearly. If one were able to foster consciousness in oneself, to the point that it is ever-present, then there would be an uninterrupted mental process that unifies our inner perceptions. This seems to all be very hypothetical, Mr. O, but I am intrigued by the standard you present, that your progress can be verified empirically. I wonder then, what does it mean to work on oneself? That is, how does one begin?

Mr. O: The work “must begin with the investigation of obstacles to consciousness in ourselves, because consciousness can only begin to grow when at least some of these obstacles are removed.”[19] Already, through our mutual recognition of lying, we’ve touched on the greatest of obstacles, “our ignorance of ourselves, and our wrong conviction that we know ourselves at least to a certain extent and can be sure of ourselves, when in reality we do not know ourselves at all and cannot be sure of ourselves even in the smallest things.”[20] There are other obstacles as well, such as imagination (as we’ve touched on in brief; quite similar to ‘lying’), negative emotion[21] and unnecessary talking.[22] These last two especially must be resisted because they make the observation of our selves nearly impossible. These manifestations happen so fast, we do not notice them unless we resist them and make obstacles for their arising.

What is required then, is ‘self-study.’ Let me try to put such work in your terms. Allow me to begin with a term you have already raised; but one you have only explored halfway: MEMORY.

Memory is absolutely necessary when working on inner unity. We call this the act of ‘self-remembering.’ We must remember to observe ourselves. One must want to work for consciousness. It is a choice that all people have, but only a few seek. One must desire to achieve self-consciousness, or personal identity, and all that is connected with it, “that is, unity or individuality, permanent ‘I’, and will.”[23]

Mr. Hume: I have always thought, that all of “mankind are so much the same, in all times and places, [and] that history informs us of nothing new or strange in this particular. Its chief use is only to discover the constant and universal principles of human nature by showing men in all varieties of circumstances and situations, and furnishing us with materials from which we may form our observations and become acquainted with the regular springs of human action and behavior.”[24]

Mr. O: Here I think you are quite observant, again Mr. Hume. It’s as if man, as we know it, is not a complete being. Nature develops him to a certain point, and leaves him to his own efforts/devices for further development. Or to stay as he is, or worse, to degenerate. Have I been clear with how memory can serve to help us in our work, to help us with ‘self-study,’ to help us recognize the lack of inner unity, and particularly, observe this lack?

Mr. Hume: Yes, I believe so. From your explanations, I gather that “as a memory alone acquaints us with the continuance and extent of this succession of perceptions, ‘tis to be considered, upon that account chiefly, as the source of personal identity;”[25] or at least as the source of the beginnings of the work, that achievement of personal identity requires. And further, I see the distinction you are presenting between the duo-fold nature of memory. Conscious self-remembering, then is much different from the vague memory of perceptions that can quickly lead a person to fall into imaginative sleep. The minute a person begins acting on ‘auto-pilot,’ it becomes impossible to remember oneself, and probably explains why we rarely remember so many events, “for how few of our past actions are there, of which we have any memory?”[26] Tell me, Mr. O, what does one do with (after?) self-remembering?

Mr. O: The value of self-remembering is that it allows one to recognize the many different bundles of personality that arise and fall throughout his/her daily living. In this way, I think you are right to see memory as a source for Identity. It’s clear that many of these impressions are the result of conditioning. When we are at the mercy of sleep, we dream of impressions and possibilities, and often we attach to these impressions, and they become linked to ideas of ourselves. Then, in waking state, we often strive to be poor imitations of those impressions that we’ve gathered from experience. For example, a bully sees the value in being tough, emotionally impenetrable and exerting power of others. Suddenly, in moments where he remembers his fondness for such a character, he begins to act accordingly. In this way, man often becomes his impressions, if even these impressions are different from his moral standard or his instinctual or natural character.

Proper memory and work are used to re-orient one’s conditioning. It’s not the case that we can simply remove one’s conditioning, but metaphorically, the work is towards a kind of re-conditioning, and attunement to maximum conscious awareness.

Mr. Hume: I am not convinced. Is it the case that, through work, one can really bind our several perceptions together into one personal identity, or might it be the case that our imagination associates all of these ideas together? “In order to justify to ourselves this absurdity, we often feign some new and unintelligible principle that connects the objects together, and prevents their interruption or variation.”[27] “Where then is the power of which we pretend to be conscious? Is there not here, either in a spiritual or material substance, or both, some secret mechanism or structure of parts upon which the effect depends, and which, being entirely unknown to us, renders the power or energy of the will equally unknown and incomprehensible?”[28]

Mr. O: I cannot here tell you the origin of this will, be it in the spiritual or material world, but I will say that if the unity of the self is what you’re after, through work it is possible to make extraordinary progress on the unification of one’s identity. It appears to me that we have much more to discuss. But when all discussions have taken place, the next step will be for a sincere seeker of personal identity to begin observing in him-/herself the harmful obstacles to his conscious thought, and ultimately, seek out help from a school, specifically trained in this cultivation process.

[1] Treatise, Section 4.
[2] Ibid., Section 2.
[3] Ibid., Section 3.
[4] Psychology of Man’s Possible Evolution (PMPE), p. 48
[5] Ibid., p. 40
[6] Ibid., p. 36, 38.
[7] Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding, p. 97
[8] Ibid., p. 98
[9] PMPE, p. 36-37
[10] Treatise, section 3
[11] Ibid., section 4
[12] Ibid., section 6
[13] Ibid., section 17
[14] Ibid., section 4
[15] Ibid., section 18
[16] Ibid., section 18: “What is memory but a faculty, by which we raise up the images of past perceptions?”
[17] Ibid., section 21
[18] PMPE, p. 22
[19] Ibid., p. 22
[20] Ibid., p. 22
[21] Ibid., p. 49: “specifically, the expression of all emotions of violence or depression: self-pity, anger, suspicion, fear, annoyance, boredom, mistrust, jealousy, etc.” (signs of weakness)
[22] Ibid., p. 50: “especially when you don’t notice it, it can become a vice. Such people are those who talk all the time, whenever there is someone to talk to; this must be resisted or else one cannot observe anything.”
[23] Ibid., p. 37
[24] Human Understanding, p. 93
[25] Treatise, section 20
[26] Ibid., section 20
[27] Ibid., section 6
[28] Human Understanding, p. 80

References:

Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature: “Hume on Personal Identity”, L.A. Selby-Bigge, OUP, 1964; (Sections 1-22.) Accessed on 11/24/06: http://www.mnstate.edu/gracyk/courses/web%20publishing/TreatiseI.iv.vi.htm

Hume, An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals. J.B. Schneewind, Hackett Publishing Company; Indianapolis, IN.1983. (Sections I, II, VI, & Appdx. I, II)

Hume, An Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding. C. W. Hendel, Prentice Hall; Upper Saddle River, NJ. 1995.

Hume, Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion. R. H. Popkin. Hackett Publishing Company; Indianapolis, IN. 1980.

Lachman, Gary., In Search of P.D. Ouspensky. Quest Books; Wheaton, IL. 2006.

Ouspensky, P.D., The Psychology of Man’s Possible Evolution. Vintage Books; New York, NY. 1974.

The Prevalence of Classism

As it is, the ‘credit check’ is the best economic system we have.

We want money and investments in the hands of those that know how to use it wisely. Indeed, we tend to associate those who work extra hard to earn/manage their funds with those who will think more wisely when they spend it. The credit check holds one accountable to a standard of diligent effort and discipline (e.g., one must make many payments, and all must be paid timely). What’s more, the credit score check, in all its grace, cares not about the size of your charges, but the manner in which each charge is paid. In this way, it’s quite feasible to ‘work the system’, making small charges and timely payments.

In as much as there are some people who will never have the means to open an account— and this is a tragic injustice to say the least— there will always be some that have the means but lack the will to keep satisfactory accounts (i.e., they are too frivolous, or too negligent). Such are what Confucius calls ‘petty’ persons. Their credit worthiness will suffer and they will likely never have access to big financial opportunity, which comes with the borrowing and lending status of their more financially trustworthy societal counterparts, namely, those with high credit scores.

For this reason, there will always be classism in America…

…but we must not forget that the money and the spending/buying potential lies in the hands of the worthy and wise. Isn’t it implied (morally) that such a person should make additional consideration for even the petty lower class? At the very least mustn’t a man of high credit worthiness remember that some lower class are worthy but without means? I declare: Yes. And in his basic sentiment of human sympathy, and in his dream to improve all standards of living, he must strive to strike the balance between keeping and giving, between acquiring and providing, both in the currency of his pocketbook and the policy of his government. If a man should not make such considerations, then tragedy will prevail: corruption will run rampant and hunger will conquer the ‘worthy without means’.

At first glance, Ouspensky’s lectures (and Confucius too!) seem to encourage a classist outlook for society. Focusing on The Work of Ouspensky’s, you must remember that he is directly speaking to you in this moment! There is urgency in his tone. Classism is the way it is today. And you, myself, Malcom X, and others all hope to see that change; but today, there is classism. Categories of man are consituted in much the same fashion, predominately seperated by willingness and effort. If you want to affect change to the structure of society, this process of self-cultivation, of actualizing one’s own personal potential, is either necessary or catalytic for that to occur. Those who are strong in the Work are stong in life, and are strong in influence. This we must trust in, and if not, if your skepticism is too great, if you refuse to hear instruction and encouragement from the mouth of another, then, keeping in mind that these are mankind’s oldest teachings, I challenge you to try it… see for yourself the results of your efforts in the Work— if not for personal resolve, experiment in homage to humanity.

Today I am Frustrated.

It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel deep frustration, but today, I can’t help it. I’m consumed. I’m identified. I’m sad.

Every once in a while all of the things on the plate pile up, and suddenly you’re left in your own tiny little corner, with your own tiny little cloud overhead, and it dumps on your tiny little self. No one can every really understand the pain and stake you put into you efforts. No one can ever truly empathize with all of the things you (claim to) juggle in your life. Any shoulder you were to lean on can never truly know the specifics… the specifics of how it all fell apart, of which piece of hay broke your back, but a good shoulder might listen. That’s true. But even then, it doesn’t make it easy to speak.

Today I let myself down. For the first time in a long while. In the grander sense of it all, I know that many of my deadlines and activities are abitrary; but in my little world, as a twenty-five year old graduate student of philosophy, I had hoped to absolve myself of my petty habit of underachieving. Even with no ultimate anymore, I admit that I’ve got a lot on my plate again, but I’m pretty sick of my own excuses. Everything can be justified. The mind is a wonderful tool in this regard. But the truth of it all is that we set out to do things because we believe that we can achieve them. Either my eyes are too big for my abilities, or I’m making mistakes throughout the process.

I’m starting to realize (with some precision) the full extent of my character flaws. Often I don’t think enough before I make my commitments. Often I think I can use time more efficiently that I actually do. Often I think I’ll remember what I quickly forget. Often I take other people for granted, especially those I love, and worse, those that I know love me. Often I fail to do the things that mean the most me. Often I interupt my own schedule to accommodate the spontaneity of others. Often I get little sleep. Often I need more help then I’m willing to ask for. Often I’d rather work harder than ask someone to compromise with me. Often I do little to overcome each of these deficiencies. Yes, on the one hand, it’s important to make such valuable self-observations, but like Ivan Osokin, I’ve quickly come to repeat my errors over, and over, and over again, ad infinitum. What good does it do to declare once more: “The buck stops here!”.

Truth be told, I’ll fail again.

(I just hope my next failure doesn’t blind-side me like today; I’d rather a gamble where I’m more aware of the risk).

I’ve often referred to my college years as a rebellion against a kind of tyrannical rule over my adolescent social life, more specifically, over my ability to entertain my closest teenage friends and loved ones. I’ve since taken nearly every opportunity to give and share and be in the interests of my social world. But I won’t allow myself to be a product of my past. These old habits are of my own creation, and they are meant to be overcome. As I slowly slip deeper and deeper into the grip of academia (which is of my choosing, remind you), I realize my ability to maintain an extensive social equilibrium is a delicate and near impossible possibility. But here’s the best part: I know this! And I’ve spent the last 7 days in near isolation, working and grinding— a true slave to the pen. I even let Halloween pass me by as just another weekend. And it felt quite good to not participate in such a cultural charm. But my efforts were not good enough. TA‘ing four 25-person biology discussions, taking two courses whch total 6 papers and two presentations, writing two thesis chapters of 25 pages each, leading a weekly reading group and working 25 hours a week at the corner market might just demand a bit more discipline from me if I’m going to complete this program unscathed by March.

Here’s a taste of the week: Hume Paper due Monday. Confucius Paper due Wednesday. Thesis chapter due Friday. Hume Paper due next Monday. Confucius Presentation next Wednesday. Grade 100 papers next Friday. Next Saturday: Drink all night…

The stakes are newer and higher than ever before. My ability to perform is all that people can judge. No one has time for your juggling act. They want results. I understand this. Yes, I know that progress was built on struggle.

But today I turned in a shitty, incomplete paper on Confucian Ritual, and I somehow ripped my favorite pair of sweatpants on the chair as I stood up to retrieve the paper from the printer. So, Today, I’m frustrated.

If Not 'How' to Live...

… what else matters?

• The process of reaching the absence of inner conflict is so essential — yet, philosophy departments throughout the world want to treat that process as folklore or English. Why? This is silly; a kind of denial.
• I have a lot of questions where I’m stuck in my own theorizing, and I push these questions/issues upon others to see if I can find someone who sheds light on my thinking/experience. There are many like-minded people in this world.

Some questions:
[1] Is P.D. Ouspensky’s work self-fulfilled prophecy? If so, so what does that mean? Remember, we’re dealing w/ our own mind states & experience, not the intentions of others’ behavior…
—> Is this intellectualization of the 4th Way (4th Way: a kind of Work towards self-cultivation) lead to a loss of emotional conviction?
[2] How do we stay on task with self-cultivation?
—> Involves ‘determined will’ and ‘helpful tricks’ (ie., rituals, community, leader/master, etc.)
[3] How do we structure society?
—> (How) Should we prod people to will change in themselves?
—> Or should we just accept the prison analogy? … all could escape the confines of our conscious illusions, but not all choose to do so; The prison analogy suggests that some necessarily stay in order for others to escape.

Difficult questions for me:
[4]—> How does the experience of ‘higher emotion’ differ from our given emotional center?
[5]—> What of impersonality — What role does impersonality play in The Work of self-cultivation? A stage in the process? A symptom? A goal? An end?

Lastly, in terms of beginning the process of Self-Cultivation (The Work):

[6] What are the differences between these terms: CAN‘T. DON‘T. WON‘T.
Allow me some assumptions:
CAN‘T: Here a man is either confined by oppressive external circumstance or… he is just plain wrong; he is afraid to begin and mistaken about the world.
DON‘T: Here a man understands his possibility but is too busy. Hopes to oneday make more time for his efforts, but in the mean time, he has an open ear.
WON‘T: Here a man is too pleasantly attached to his illusions and habits. He chooses to turn his back on the Way. They say, “the hardest thing for a man to give up is his own suffering.”

[7] What are the differences between these terms?: SHOULD. WILL. DOES.
Again, I offer some assumptions:
SHOULD: Here a man understands his possibility and feels shame for his lack of effort. He may even encourage others to see their relationship to ‘becoming.’
WILL: Here a man feels the urgency. He is reluctant to begin, thinking he has not studied enough on the matter, or hasn’t found an appropriate school or master from which to learn. In such a man, the magnetic center is most certainly growing. (the magnetic center is, for now, an analogy of those most concerned w/ self-cultivation… this concern necessarily attracts the attention of other like-minded thinkers who can serve to strengthen his commitment). However, this man does not realize the Fourth Way, which is designed to help people do what they can while without a school or master.
DOES: Here is the man who has chosen to reliquish all doubts and has begun the process of focused self-observation…

White Rag Fellowship

Hogan Hayes, an old camp friend, helped establish a virtual world for all Raggers to come together…

Check it out: The White Rag Fellowship

… I will look up, and Laugh. and Love. and Lift. …

Questions. Part 1.

Ayn Rand (1981) said that ‘philosophy studies the fundamental nature of human existence and mankind’s relationship to existence.’ I like this definition, and think it’s accurate. Don’t you?

However, the idea that we study our own relationship to experience is kind of a tricky idea, isn’t it?

Particularly, Rand’s description of philosophy raises some concerns for me:

• How can there be a relationship to other things, especially somethihg like existence?
• What does “relationship” mean?
• What does relationship “to” mean?
  —> does this imply a seperation from the one to the other? (is existence other/seperate than humanity?)
  —> is “existence” something one has and risks losing?
  —> is “existence” something one must earn/obtain
  —> do we ever part with existence, and if so, how?
  —> lastly, how can something that you need (in order to be) be something other than you? (ie., “how can existence be something different than the individual, if the individual couldn’t exist without it?). We might not be able to say that existence is the individual, but couldn’t we say the individual is existence?
• If we study only our individual selves, we risk solipsism, self-righteousness, egotism, secularism, etc…
• If we study all individuals, we are necessarily agreeing that all humans relate to existence similarly, and/or function/respond similarly… is this too much of a leap? How much do we really differ? Is there enough common ground to really provide a foundation for philosophy?
• What else has the ability to reflect?
• Where do we draw the line for things like ourselves? … at primates?, at dogs/cats? at physiological ability? at psychological performance? social class? race? you can see where this is goiing…

Considering all these questions, can we really deny that THIS kind of thinking is exactly what Rand’s definition calls for? Aren’t we already doing philosophy, even while disputing the definition itself? That being said, it seems clear to me how there is so much work to be done in philosophy…. doesn’t it?

Emerson & the Light of India

Finally got my head on straight. I slowed it all down, and took a look at it…

An old friend, Moriah, came into Little’s Market while I was working on Saturday afternoon, and she was with a friend named Jennifer. My mood was casual and I’ve been reading—as many hours in the day that I can manage to free up— this Emerson manuscript for about a week straight (titled, “Emerson & the Light of India” by Dr. Robert Gordon). It’s consumed me. I look up from my chair at work, and am quickly greeted by an old familiar smile. I’m already at peace before she even walks in, so my expression barely changed. “Hey, what’s goin’ on,” I asked. Introductions are made, small-talk and catch-up ensues, and then boom, we’re discussing the book, and what’s more, we’re back into the conversation that they (Moriah and Jennifer) were having before entering into the store… The exact same kind of discussion, questions on ‘how one should live in the world.’ It couldn’t have been more than an instant before we were all into such progressive converation. It was real talk. Admittedly, it hasn’t happened in a while. We weren’t just relaying events that happened, but actually hammering out our comparisons of real conscious experience. As if a director behind a camera snapped his fingers, we were off to the races with our minds.

Moriah is a good thinker and appears to be a strong believer as well. I think these people struggle/suffer the most, but their effort is the most rewarding—I believe their shift to ‘clear’ thinking to be the largest and crudest kind of awakening. Anyways, we have an exchange that transcends time for a moment. In retrospect, an hour might have passed… a whole slew of customers and friends must have come and gone, but I only remember our chat. We shared views on Emerson, on Buddha, on Hinduism, Heidegger, Krishnamurti. We raised examples from the bible, from Nagarjuna, from Ouspensky, from the world…

She reminded me of the pain of attachment. She was raw, and I could feel that. She walked into the store mentally distracted by the fear of living a life that one day falls under judgment. I quickly opened the conversation to how Emerson once believed the same, even became ordained as a Unitarian minister. But he quickly found the philosophy of India and abandoned the view that life is a trial which one day comes to Judgment, and in its place, adopted a more ‘pragmatic’ approach—one that sees life as a spiritual process. He went so far as to believe in a kind of reincarnation called transmigration… the spirit of a person comes back lifetime after lifetime, each time bettering their ability to awaken to the soul within (atman), which really is the exact same fabric of the one Cosmic Will (Brahman) that is all things.

Moriah found such talk familiar, and we found ourselves wondering what authority confirms that a traveler is ‘on the right path’, or searching/practicing correctly. It’s a good question, and I could only offer her what I’ve read and experienced. A mystic will tell you (ie., Emerson, Ouspensky, Buddha, etc.) that “Atman is Brahman,” and you will agree because that’s what you’ve read, or know to be true of what they say, but the fact of the matter is that this isn’t some philosophical statement. It’s an actual experience—an experience that results from practice. Let us not forget the question: “How shall I know what I’m practicing, and who will tell me I’m practicing rightly?”

The Abhidharma Literature from the monastic monks of yesteryore would insist that there are certain systematic ways of practicing transcendental meditation. They agree that the goal is to rid the mind of thoughts, to burn off the conventional beliefs, feelings, thoughts that we impose onto reality. The Buddha reminds us that we have attachments to such things, and that these are difficult to shake (ie., fear, jealousy, pain, pride, etc). Once we think about clearing our minds of such attachments, eventually not even a thought will stand between you and the experience of what you are doing. This is freedom, this is the experience of the soul itself (atman), which is all one Nature (Brahman), and this is nirvana. And if everyone on earth would arrive at this state, Heaven would reign on earth. Compassion would unfold from our actions and unite all things. Emerson insists that truth is pragmatic and progressive. It is organic and grows as Nature progresses. Nature and soul are one, and the more souls that reunite with Nature, the more Nature is fulfilled, and even the concept of what is understood to be Truth expands. So, with each new awakened soul, truth on earth grows. Compassion on earth grows. Right action grows. Heaven on earth would be a world like you’ve never seen, a virtue and a love unprecedented.

We agreed that this sounded marvelous, then Moriah raised a shocking prejudice: the conecpt of “self-righteousness”. What do we make of the self through all of this? Is all perspective illusion? She argued that we are here destroying the experience of ego, but at the same time, it is this same ego that is justifying the use of meditation to kill the ego— rather, what then, when the ego wrongfully serves as an authority? “Interesting.” I thought for a moment and continued my response,

“You’re asking if we can trust the ego here, while knowing that all views are illusion? Do I hear you saying that this system of thought is all one egotistical fabrication? I think I do. And I like it, but the clear response from Buddha is that the ego itself is illusion…”

She interrupted. She had to expand on this question of ‘self-righteousness’. She was stuck: “Aren’t we acting self-righteously when we think that we are of the spiritual level that is ready to travel the ‘right’ path?” Emerson will say that this is a freedom we are born with, a freedom that we earned over the course of our soul’s development. Not everyone even has such inclinations—some people are still stuck acting on purely instinctual, animalistic behaviors. Others barely know how to exercise the freedom to choose to live a spiritual life. Still fewer, are born with the inclination to give themselves to the path of enlightenment. This is not self-righteousness, Emerson will tell her. I thought a bit more and asserted, “It might be self-righteous to believe you’re ready to practice, and then never actually begin…”. But I digress.

Where were we? I think the buddha was going to tell us that, in general, Moriah’s question is a good one. How can we trust the ego if it’s just an illusion? Well, yes, our entire selfhood is an illusion. Our root delusion is what constructs the material world and all of our thoughts and actions thereto. This illusion seperates the world into individual things, and we see the world in parts. All I can tell you is of things. But to know them youreself is to acknowledge the arduous process of practice. Ouspensky will tell you that practice will bring results, and to let the practice itself show answers to your questions. But again, you must start. I remembered what I read in the Tao Te Ching:

My words are very easy to understand and very easy to put into practice
Yet no one in the world understands them or puts them into practice. (TTC, 70)

I spoke again, “Just put yourself to practice, and start with your attachment to the fear that the ego is self-righteous.” We continued to talk, and agreed that the Abhidharma Buddhists, who tried to systematize the practice itself, were too strict in their thinking, and that she could begin her practice the moment she went outside and began walking down the street. But the truth of the matter was that, eventually, she would have to practice specifically so as to achieve the absence of the thought itself. This requires patient and careful meditation, and cannot be done while doing other things. You will know when you are close, and with each new right foot that hits the pavement on your path, you will walk that much more awakened consciousness, and what’s more, you will somehow come to know what to do next.

Next thing I knew, I was helping a line of customers, and Moriah and Jennifer were gone. Only one thing concerns me… we didn’t finish! But, I guess, when do you ever? I wrongly told her that Emerson ended up rejecting the benevolence of Nature for a Nature that was indifferent to humanity. As I read on, I learned that this is a common misconception. I may have steered Moriah wrong. I also wondered: did she take the existential leap into phenomenology, or did I keep her on the side of transcendental mysticism?

Even if we all agreed that to awaken was to strive, a kind of striving that might even continue lifetime after lifetime all the while trying to one day empty the consciousness—even if this emptying is just a momentous road stop on the path of life, we should acknowledge that it is real achievement, for all of us as one humanity. The Buddha will tell us that this clarity is blissful and heavenly. But yes, life keeps going. We must return to interacting with the real world, and after awakening we should return to acting compassionately in the world. But, something tells me that Moriah will hear all this and raise the existential concern. Camus or Sartre, true existentialist thinkers, reach this emptiness and call it ‘existential dread.’ They find this emptiness to imply that there is no reason for us to be on earth, and that we must live so as to construct some meaning.

What the existentialist does not realise is that they are still imposing view on the world. Ultimate reality, Nature itself, will not fit the description of any human conception. I have to believe that existentialists exist one hair below the line between Fate and Freedom. They are stubborn, and stranded. Caught between two worlds. They are in limbo between illusion (maya) and awakened consciousness. I could say more, but I’ll save it. I just hope Moriah finds the answers… the world needs her.

The Simpsons As Philosophy...

A good friend brought an article to my attention: The Simpsons As Philosophy. It’s a pretty good read. I’ve heard of doctoral students writing their dissertation on the Simpsons. … and who ever said ‘America didn’t have any values?’

Here is the article itself, in case the site one day fails…

The Simpsons is more than a funny cartoon, it reveals truths about human nature that rival the observations of great philosophers from Plato to Kant… while Homer sets his house on fire, says philosopher Julian Baggini.
With the likes of Douglas Coupland, George Walden and Stephen Hawking as fans, taking the Simpsons seriously is no longer outre but de rigeur.

It is, quite simply, one of the greatest cultural artefacts of our age. So great, in fact, that it not only reflects and plays with philosophical ideas, it actually does real philosophy, and does it well.

How can a comic cartoon do this? Precisely because it is a comic cartoon, the form best suited to illuminate our age.

To speak truthfully and insightfully today you must have a sense of the absurdity of human life and endeavour. Past attempts to construct grand and noble theories about human history and destiny have collapsed.

We now know we’re just a bunch of naked apes trying to get on as best we can, usually messing things up, but somehow finding life can be sweet all the same. All delusions of a significance that we do not really have need to be stripped away, and nothing can do this better that the great deflater: comedy.

The satirical cartoon world is essentially a philosophical one because it reflects reality by abstracting it, distilling it and presenting it back to us, illuminating it more brightly than realist fiction can

The Simpsons does this brilliantly, especially when it comes to religion. It’s not that the Simpsons is atheist propaganda; its main target is not belief in God or the supernatural, but the arrogance of particular organised religions that they, amazingly, know the will of the creator.

For example, in the episode Homer the Heretic, Homer gives up church and decides to follow God in his own way: by watching the TV, slobbing about and dancing in his underpants.

Throughout the episode he justifies himself in a number of ways.

“What’s the big deal about going to some building every Sunday, I mean, isn’t God everywhere?”
“Don’t you think the almighty has better things to worry about than where one little guy spends one measly hour of his week?”
“And what if we’ve picked the wrong religion? Every week we’re just making God madder and madder?”
Homer’s protests do not merely allude to much subtler arguments that proper philosophers make. The basic points really are that simple, which is why they can be stated simply.

Philosophy’s First Family
Of course, there is more that can and should be said about them, but when we make decisions about whether or not to follow one particular religion, the reasons that really matter to us are closer to the simple truths of the Simpsons than the complex mental machinations of academic philosophers of religion.

And that’s true even for the philosophers, whose high-level arguments are virtuosi feats of reasoning, but are not the things that win hearts and minds. They are merely the lengthy guitar solos to Homer’s crushing, compelling riffs.

However, being simple is not the same as being simplistic, which is one of the greatest crimes in the Simpsons’ universe.

We can see this when Homer’s house catches fire, in what could be seen as divine retribution for his apostasy.

But what actually led to the fire was not God’s wrath but Homer’s hubris and arrogance. Sitting on his sofa thinking smugly, “Boy, everyone is stupid except me,” he falls asleep, dropping his cigar.

What really caused the fire was thus a slippage from the simple into the simplistic. Homer’s mistake was to think that because the key points which inform his heresy are simple, that the debate is closed and he has nothing left to learn from others. But this is being simplistic, not keeping things simple.

Small dots, big picture

Revealing simple truths about simplistic falsehoods is not just a minor philosophical task, like doing the washing up at Descartes’ Diner while the real geniuses cook up the main courses.

For when it comes to the relevance of philosophy to real life, all the commitments we make on the big issues are determined by considerations which are ultimately quite straightforward.

Pointillist paintings, such as this by Seurat, use thousands of tiny dots
A rich philosophical worldview is in this sense like a pointillist picture - one of those pieces of art in which a big image is made up of thousands of tiny dots (see Seurat image, right). Its building blocks are no more than simple dots, but the overall picture which builds up from this is much more complicated.

Yet we need reminding that the dots are just dots, and that errors are made more often not by those who fail to examine the dots carefully enough, but those who become fixated by the brilliance or defects of one or two and who fail to see how they fit into the big picture.

And the Simpsons certainly plays out on a broad canvas.

Any individual or group is shown to be ridiculous when only their pathetic and partial view of the world is taken to be everything. That’s why no one escapes satire in programme, which is vital for its ultimately uplifting message: we’re an absurd species but together we make for a wonderful world.

The Simpsons, like Monty Python, is an Anglo-Saxon comedic take on the existentialism which in France takes on a more tragic hue. Albert Camus’ absurd is defied not by will, but mocking laughter.

Abstract themes

Another reason why cartoons are the best form in which to do philosophy is that they are non-realistic in the same way that philosophy is.

True heir to Plato, Simpsons creator Matt Groening
Philosophy needs to be real in the sense that it has to make sense of the world as it is, not as we imagine or want it to be. But philosophy deals with issues on a general level. It is concerned with a whole series of grand abstract nouns: truth, justice, the good, identity, consciousness, mind, meaning and so on.

Cartoons abstract from real life in much the same way philosophers do. Homer is not realistic in the way a film or novel character is, but he is recognisable as a kind of American Everyman. His reality is the reality of an abstraction from real life that captures its essence, not as a real particular human who we see ourselves reflected in.

The satirical cartoon world is essentially a philosophical one because to work it needs to reflect reality accurately by abstracting it, distilling it and then presenting it back to us, illuminating it more brightly than realist fiction can.

That’s why it is no coincidence that the most insightful and philosophical cultural product of our time is a comic cartoon, and why its creator, Matt Groening, is the true heir of Plato, Aristotle and Kant.

Short Ramblings

Revisited. All the old feelings have once again been revisited. Funny how that works. Do they lay dormant? Do they become suppressed? Do the disappear? Where do they go? Oh, how the sun sets and the blossoms bloom… Oh, how the spring comes, the birds chirp, and the little bunnies hop…. Who am I kidding? I don’t care about bunnies. I am once again found in the human plight, the turmoil of our earthly emotion. Up, down, all around. A rollercoaster; one you don’t want to ride, but yet, so tempted by the rush. Well, I should speak for myself… ha! A simple man? I think not. Whan am I to do in a world like this? Where everything is open if I just put forth the energy? Where everything is present if I just put forth the drive? But where am I driving? Once again, the road has found me —- reached up and grabbed me by the sole, taking me North and East at the same time (Read: head & heart).

This is exactly what I needed. To be no one again… To catch people by surprise. To bewilder.

“You’re a good man…,” he said, as I sipped my second beer at the bar. “I can tell.”

The Moment of Infinity

I experienced a moment of infinity the other day.

Remember in “Star Wars”, at the introduction, where you find yourself racing through space at the speed of light, zipping past stars in the farthest reaches of the galaxy? Yeah, something like that. But I was in Eugene, of course, walking home in the rain.

I was listening to “Kothbiro”, by Ayub Ogada (the theme song from the movie, “The Constant Gardener”), and I stopped to stair up at the grey clouds — to look them square in the eyes and take a deep a breath. Immediately, I squinted nervously and it wasn’t long before I caught a raindrop near the eye and had to turn away. Realizing what happened, I tried to exert my influence on the situation.

Eventually, I calmed my nerves and attempted to brave the falling rain and once again turned my eyes to the sky. In that moment, I was relaxed and wide-eyed. With my eyes fixed above, I captured a glimpse of reality pouring down on me. I could see drops falling all around me, one by one, coming into view from the heavens and falling out of view beside me. The music continued, and began to compliment their journey to the ground. The drops would dance to the beat. Out of the infinite abyss above, one drop, one after another, out of hundreds of thousands of millions, would appear in my periphery in perfect time to the sounds in my earphones.

For just a moment, the whole world felt in synch, in rhythm, and I was a part of it. With my eyes straight to the sky, I could witness the work of the cosmos; each new drop came into view, vanished, and was followed by another. I closed my eyes to remember the moment. And like a tear, a drop came to my eyelid, and slid down my cheek and I was reminded of my finitude.

This was my moment of infinity.

Space as Luxury.

Since when has “Space” become popularized as such a luxury? It really seems to be the case. Every house should have more square footage. Every car, from its frame, to its wheels, to its engine, is measured by its size. We compare, and compete, and covet because of this standard. Our freeways should have wide lanes, and many of them. We should have huge yards, just to have, and even the clothes on our bodies could fit three people in them. Space. We try to own it, possess and control it, and to what good? And and why is it so prevailed?

I had a friend once insist that the “automobile” single-handedly ruined American Culture. It came up during a discussion about whether one could blame conservative suburban types for being so out of touch with the social struggles of lower classes. Can you blame them for doing everything they can within their means in order to protect and stabalize their children’s upbringing? Ignorant, yes, but malicious, or inconsiderate? No, we just need someone to tell everyone’s story in a way where everyone else could understand. Couldn’t one say that the white-picket fences and the twenty-minute commutes were the fall of American Culture? No, he remarked, “It was the rise of the car.” I said, “How so?”

I’ve come to understand his position. The car brought about the isolation. We lost our aptitude for casual conversation and confrontation. The idea of communal went out the window. Even traveling together in the masses was quickly considered too slow, and inefficient. The destinations were too general, the travel time wasn’t fast enough, and the atmosphere was never the way you’d prefer it. Like any hard-working, communal culture, we were just waiting to be swept up by our feet, and to be given the opportunity to go wherever we want, and to leave whenever we choose— and innovation was our savior. Soon, we were in cars, locking ourselves up, and shutting the world out. We began to lose our way amongst eachother, and the social paranoia took root. We’ve been living in our own worlds for so long that we’ve forgotten how to pass a stranger on the sidewalk. We’ve become skeptical of the man behind the drive-thru window, and the teenager at the corner crosswalk. From behind our seatbelts, we sit, and stare and judge all those we passby rolling +35mph, while the TV only confirms our suspicions.

I understand what my friend was suggesting. We’ve tried to create the perfect environment with our autos— the right sound, the right smell, the right temperature— and our world’s natural resources pay the price for the social status it delivers, while accident victims pay for the effective distractions (ie., radio, phone, food, cigarettes, etc.) marketed to us while we travel ‘on the road’. Ok, shameless shot at our culture’s irresponsibility, I know, but I had no where else to squeeze it in. The truth of the matter is that we’ve been addicted to having our own space in such a way that we’ve become too concerned with drawing the line between what’s mine and what’s yours. We’ve tried to hard to seperate. “Don’t touch.” “I’ll get my own.” It seems so silly.

But ‘cars’ as the cause seems so recent. Hasn’t space been a privilege for centuries before this? I almost want to assert that ‘space’ was at least considered a luxury for the royalty of past. A small minority by far, but quite a privaleged one. From the Egyption Temples, to the many European Castles, I envision long, long dining tables with hundreds and hundreds of guests. “Come! Feast at my castle, dine with my china, and dance in your gowns!,” roared the typical King of Kings. Regardless, the standard was set: space is luxury. And who doesn’t want to live luxuriously if they could?

Since those days of yore, the ability to acquire space, especially in our nation, has become a priority for the masses. Maybe the car opened up the can of worms, but from the moment we looked out across the midwestern prairies, we’ve become so adamant about owning and occupying ‘space’ that many of us don’t even talk with our neighbors. In our ignorance, and in our pretension, we’ve forgotten what it’s like to be human, and that we’re basically surrounded by decent people, all trying to make a life to live. Don’t we realize that our everyday luxuries are strangling our culture’s last breath?

I once heard that people who live with extended family live longest… I at least know this to be true of those with spouses, and even pets. I have so much more I could say; about the loss of etiquette, about the giant population of retirees, and about the privatization of our personalities, but I’ll work it out in chunks. For now, I just needed to admit outloud that our nation has much that it could change, and the problem of ‘space as luxury’ as a standard, stands between us and our ability to inspire more impactful change. Before we can agree which way to move, we need someone or something that can make us pay attention to eachother, make us recognize and be real with eachother, make us roll down our windows, …and then our sleeves.

Convenience

I work at a convenience store. But what does ‘convenience’ really mean? Who’s convenience? Is it yours, the customer? Is it my, the owner/manager/employee? At the very least, as such, the employer is responsible for choosing hours of operation, and serving the register in between potty breaks and stocking food items. If convenience rests on the shoulders of either role in particular, where does the sense of ownership come from? What is lost or gained at putting the focus of convenience on only one side of the equation? Does it take two to tango? If ‘convenience’ was a thing-in-itself, to be achieved as the result of actions in general, perhaps the truest state of convenience involves, like a negotation, all parties/circumstances involved. So, in the case of a convenient store, perhaps ours (Little’s Market) subscribes to the highest calling. A calling where all people and circumstances must be taken into consideration. Inherent to this is a recognition of people, AS people. Is there a hurry? On who’s part? Who must be asked to make the most sacrifice, so as to allow for the convenience of the other? In “convience”, we, customers & workers alike, are united by our understanding of the life of another and specifically, its relation to mine. Here, I assume that an understanding of convenience should bring a sense of appreciation and acknowledgement for others to all parties.

Restlessness & Engagement

Lately, I�ve been feeling a very strange feeling inside. It�s a mental state of conscious suppression, and like ice cold milk trickling down my throat on warm day, I can feel the movement of thought within me. There�s a suspense to it all. I know, it sounds strange, but this entry is my first attempt to begin to wrestle with it, so I must beg your patience as I do my own.

For some time now, I�ll feel the inertia of my being swell up with a type of urgency. And what’s more, these inklings tend to accumulate while I’m already fully engaged in a particular thought, or conversation, or activity at hand. It�s as if my intuition is driving me to further contribute to the situation around me, like an internal call prompting me to make a statement, or perform some action. It begins with a very tangible feeling of lack, a sort of desire or appetite to do more for the moment, but it�s not specific. It�s just the initial instinct alone �- without direction, and without definition. In that same moment, I can feel an additional emotion, a counter emotion that begins to swell within me. It�s almost like a slight frustration with the first. It�s as if these mental forces within me are wrestling blindly, where half of my energy demands my focus and calls me to action, and a second energy is immediately disgusted with the half-hearted orientation of the primal urge itself. I say �half-hearted� here to strongly undercut its lack of focused intent.

On the one hand, there is this undeniable desire for action, for response, for contribution to the moment, and on the other hand, there is a dissatisfaction with the fact that the need itself is overwhelmingly empty, and unspecific. The articulation of the action, the means to satisfying the urge, the how to, simply doesn�t come quick enough. �What do I want me to do!?� And before I even begin to inquire about what the urge is, I suppress it. I let the entire emotion pass. I make an active, conscious decision to move on, and I give my anxiousness no attention. It�s as if I punish the urge for lacking certainty. I force the entire moment to settle. And to make the moment more permanent, to prevent myself from second guessing, I never return to [evaluate] that decision. That is, in later moments of thought and reflection, I never return to question that previous instant, I never attempt to interrogate my act of suppression (of me).

Perhaps it�s as if, in that moment, I was too much for me. I had more energy than resources. Energy that hoped to be explored, but which sadly was unaccompanied with any specific purpose or failed to articulate its relevance, and thus was abandoned. And justly enough, in the moment of suppression, in that moment where I turn my back on the sudden propensity for action, I feel an overwhelming sense of ease, of resolution. There�s a regainment of control. �Hey, it�s gone, now. That unspecific desire has come to pass. No need to worry. Let us return to putting our focus externally, and prepare to engage the situation at hand. �I�m sorry, John, now what were you saying’…�

The only reason I bring this up is because it�s been happening and happening with more and more frequency. I�ll feel the urge to say something, or I�ll feel as if there is something I haven�t done or should�ve already done, or worse, that there is something I should be doing in this exact instant! �- but these brief moments of intuitive unrest, if you will, they lack a definitiveness, and in that moment of ambiguity, I simply ignore, forget and proceed without regret.

In taking this time to verbally hash out my experience and to consciously wrestle with this phenomenon, I can�t help but wonder what these inclinations are, what they serve, and if something is being lost in my denial of them. I mean, in a way, this is rather creepy. I can�t remember this ever happening to me before, and I wonder where this suppression instinct in me has come from. And further, if I understand myself to be a single �I�, how can one identity sustain such opposing dialogue? For surely, the tension if left unresolved will tear the Self apart…

…I can only imagine.

"just throw it away"

“Just throw it away.” Where is it that people think things really go? ‘Away’ is so abstract, so vague, so unrealistic. Things never disappear, and a statement like this displaces responsibility and disolves our relationship to the interrelated. It’s sad to think that, at an early age and on throughout adulthood, we are bombared with such insufficient catch phrases, and unknowingly they perpetuate a non-sustainable mental framework where objects exist in isolation. Out of sight, out of mind. Our rhetoric could use a bit of fine tuning. We would be wrong to think that the messes we create resolve themselves, and I believe that keeping this at the forefront of our consciousness translates very well to issues of the Self.

We are a mess. And it’s not going to go away on its own. You may be of the minority, feeling crisp and organized and unconflicted, but I can only hope that you’ve afforded yourself this luxury through the patient care of being a disciplined and deliberative individual— otherwise you may find a costly pollutant trickling into your daily life 10-15 years from now, and where will you turn? The world is asking themselves this as we speak (or at least they should be!). Awareness is the only answer. It doesn’t promise of prevention, but it has promise all the same. In just the way that we all do spring cleaning every now and then, or how we often take the weekend to dust the cobwebs, fold the blankets, vacuum the floors, pull out & clean up old dresser drawers, so we must do with our minds.

With each cup of coffee we drink, with each routine we maintain, with each new discussion we don’t make time for, our sense of Self is compromised. It is forcibly stuck in the shape of habit, and it’s versatility and overall health is atrophied. Your mind is a muscle, and in the same way that our bellies grow large with age, our mind loses it’s fine physique to neglect. Each day it begs for a change of pace, does it not? At the end of each week (and the beginning for that matter), it cries for some alteration in mood and mode, am i wrong? How then we rush to the bars for Thursday’s afterwork ‘happy hour’, or distract ourselves with NBC’s Friday evening sitcoms, or scramble to the cinema for Saturday night’s big blockbuster, box office hit… Such things are to dull the senses, to induce gratification, and are a far cry from fulfillment. Not that they’re wrong, but they’re not what’s right. We too often reduce ourselves to sensory animals at every chance we get, like a small puppy frantically trying to switch its attention to and from anything to keep it’s little mind busy at work with the arbitrary— first a shoelace, now a belt buckle, now a paper cup, ohh a fallen napkin, ooh a rolling ball, and this, now that, now this… it never ends, until you’re worn out from all the running around and you need to take a little nap with your cute, cute wrinkly nose. People, we don’t have cute wrinkly noses for a reason. Need I remind you that our brain is as wrinkly as it gets….

I just don’t think life is supposed to be entertainment. I see it as resistance and reward. It is an overcoming of a struggle, and the Self needs to feel the weight of work on every level: physical, mental and emotional. This makes for the ‘good life.’ The good life is not a hand-me-down, is not a comfortable stability. That is denial. And that is for the coward. The good life transpires from energy and effort, and I can think of nothing else as more inherently a ceaseless striving than Life itself. We have it. It drives us. It will not simply go ‘away’. And for that, we have a decision to make… embrace or displace?

I’m heading to Nationals in a week, and I’m starting to get pretty freakin’ psyched…

Diatribe. Three.

What the fuck. Seriously, what is the deal with all of this? What is the plan for all of this? Is there even a plan? How am I to negotiate these people and these places and my dreams and theirs? I’m beginning to think that there is a serious consequence to putting your thoughts out there— into the realm of listeners. People become addicted to the sharing of thoughts. Those that pay attention never seem to go away. And their interest and allegiance build up an attraction that begins to pull and push on you. I can feel my spine condense as we speak. Breathe, Aaron, Breeeaaathe… I must straighten myself from the inside out. I must constantly, consciously resist the weight. Why are we so desperate to need? This world is becoming more and more repulsive to me with each new encounter I have with it. It’s official, Need is very, very painful. And I’m fairly certain that anyone needing me is in for a very, very dangerous disappointment. I will not be there for you. Guaranteed. Promise. I pinky swear. At the very least, life is fleeting. I am merely a momentary incarnation of life, and for what? For you? To suit your needs for a while? To quell your fears for a while? To occupy your time for a while? To distract your insecurity for a while? To remind you of them? Forever, I will not be reliable. My very being by definition is not remotely dependable. Tomorrow might be my last day, or the day that I leave this town— at a certain point it’s all the same. I’m beginning to see the allure of isolation, and I’m beginning to see that this is something most people accomplish in many ways (even through marriage). Perhaps it’s the easy way out after all. Being open to the world and its people is a very precarious thing.

I recognize that I talk in riddles. I never quite say what I mean, and I knowingly express myself discursively, allowing for differing interpretations. It seems that my writing prefers to drag me through all the tributary emotions and distracting considerations that arose throughout the original thinking of the thought I aimed to capture. Sometimes I wish I could just say it, just put it out there. To just be clear, and direct. But words alone are almost too rational, they can never be the whole story. There’s certain emotion to be conveyed, and certain emotion to be avoided. Things I want you to feel, and things that would only distract. All things cannot be expressed with words, so it becomes a matter of how we use them— and “how”, my friend, is for me to decide… this is my freedom. And my impatient burden.

I’m almost sick of words. Sick to my stomach. They create and they destroy me. I can see now that they are both my strength and my weakness. If only I could get them all out of my head. I never realized this before, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit it: when I speak, people will listen, and generally, they will be moved in the very ways in which I anticipate. Maybe I only put myself in situations where I have a loyal audience. Maybe I only seek out those that are willing to listen. Maybe I’ve mastered the secret mystical art of unavoidable eye-contact or something. Maybe I’m delusional. In any regard, I imagine that I lose listeners along the way, but will they ever entirely forget me? Will they forget everything I’ve ever said? God, I hope so. I desperately hope so. Oh, by the heavens above and all that’s good on earth, my greatest fear is that I’m right, and people will forever remember me for something, that people will never forget “Aaron Bell”. A name or a curse? Am I condemned to be meaningful? Why do I exude such intrigue? From where comes their fascination? For what are people looking, whether they know it or not, that leads them to believe I have something valuable to share? I’m talking to those of you who are un deniably attracted to me (gasp!) —those of you who want to be my friend, my confidant, my lover, those of you who have once wanted my attention. Get over yourselves. Yes, I pull people in. Yes, I push people away. Yes, I live to bring people close enough to know there’s more and yes, I then never open any further… in fact, I’ll generally escort you out. I am a gentleman at the very least.

Who really says such things? How dare me for putting such thoughts down on a page. And where do I get off sharing them in this way? Who do I really think I am?

Let’s just say that I’m high and mighty. Let’s just say that I’m full of myself. That I’m stubborn and bullish. That I’m mistaken to think the things I do, and I have it all wrong— that I have me and the world all wrong. Why keep coming back then? Why keep showing interest? Why let yourself be vulnerable to me? ‘ve hurt you at least once before, maybe in this passage, maybe last night, maybe last month, maybe last year, maybe last decade … so why return? Why remember? I’ve let you down, and will do so again, there’s nothing more for me to say. I am as deceptive as they come. I maintain a smooth and mild meander down every street I stroll, but truthfully my being is of conflicted intonation, a bedazzled system of trichotomous tension. A system that I can’t begin to understand alone. I conspire to be the best, to do and know the most, to Understand. Please be offended. Let it fuel you to turn your back and never return. Think nasty thoughts of me for eons, and share your disdain with all of the world to see — I beg you. I dare you. I beseech you.

It’s totally unfair of you not to do so.

How do I tempt you? Please share with me so that I may repair the damage, so that I can protect the unsuspecting from my dangerous allure. Do I beg for persuasion? Is there some sense of accomplishment that people hope to attain by moving me to give in to them and their desires/needs? Why me? What about me makes me so attractive? I’m not some stubborn egoist caught in my own wicked web, desperately seeking attention, and embellishing social happenings at will to satisfy my delirium. Please allow me some dignity and some sense of grace, some sense of awareness. These thoughts wouldn’t get down on paper if I wasn’t stuck deliberating over them for as long as I do. I’d have nothing to say if these types of experiences didn’t happen as often as they do. Don’t people see that this is burdensome for me? Burdensome to mediate your little wants and desires? I carry this weight with me with every step I take; my heart is heavy with the fear of falling short. I’ve knocked too many hearts off of other people’s sleeves. The ground I walk on is bloodied with the scars of the past and present. And what of the future? Aye, mi santo, dios mio…

Listen, the difference between me sharing these thoughts and keeping them a secret is a click of a button. Left button to ‘draft’, right button to ‘publish’. I’ve got nothing to hide, but know that sharing doesn’t come easily—

-click!

Untitled.

It’s times like these… times like these when I just don’t know. The world will stand still for no one, and it’s very clear on this, make no mistake. But if only it would, even if just for one moment. If only just for a moment the world could take a break and spare us of its weight. What then? I would feel liberated. A whole moment given to us. Extra. Free. Just like that. Oh, what to do? I’d lay my head down on the warm soft grass below my feet. I’d snuggle into the good earth’s soil, and take the deepest breath I could. I’d let the sun’s shine caress my goosebumps. I’d let the wind dry the tears off my cheeks. I’d let the autumn leaves whisper sweet nothings in my ears. If only I had a free moment. I’d stretch my arms out like an angel, and tap my foot to an imaginary beat. I’d lightly run my fingerstips down my own stomach, spinning a soothing web of spiral sensation atop my skin. I’d lick my lips and clear my mind of all it’s thoughts. I’d rest. Plainly and simply. If only for a moment…

clearing space for Momentum...

Shit. A brother should be writing right now. I know this, and quite frankly, so does everyone else in my life (apparently). How funny that it’s come to this: other people reminding me of my priorities. It’s as if they’re more invested in my life than I am, or more interested, or more something. Well, I’m done answering to them at least. I mean, we only get so many free moments to chat with people, might as well keep our minds off of my work load… that and admittedly, I’m deathly afraid of other people’s pessimism, or worse, their sympathy…

If you don’t believe in me, … cha! jus’ watch how-I-do.

But the real difficulty lies in the attempt to change one’s routine. I’m puttin’ in the time, but I can’t seem to tighten up. Habits are hell, I’m tellin’ you. Just the reading and writing alone is so arduous and so pathetic; I spend half of my time re-reading the same page over and over again, and the other half of my time wanting to beat my head against the wall. But, so is grad school! The minute I open my books, my ears drift into the whispers of all the shadows of earth; my eyes fall off the pages and snatch up the brights and lights, and the darks and dulls of the world around me; my body falls asleep within itself, wrapped up in its many layers of soft and warmth, and next thing you know, time is spent, and all is lost. Gosh, all I want to do is sit at this desk, focused, disciplined, and put my pencil to the paper, and make some academic progress, and check some stuff off the List…

It’s as if I’ve been walking for quite a while, and the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t getting any larger. If I don’t get to running soon, something tells me it will disappear all-together.

The push-ups, the sit-ups, the home-cleaning, the meal-making, the emailing, the RSD reading, the phone-answering, the day-dreaming… all amount to this ingenius plot to self-distract, and self-destruct. Individually, these are all things that need to happen. I know this. But I’m either doing too many of each, or taking too long to do them, or just plain doing them at the wrong time. So what is the right time? The ‘when’ and the ‘how’ become increasingly arbitrary at a certain point. The real issue emerges: momentum.

I lack it.

… at least, academically. And I need it now more than ever. I’ve never been more excited about the MA thesis I have in the works, and I’m very excited to have done as much additional reading on the topic as I have, but the truth is I’m behind schedule, and, ironically and unrealistically, I’m still looking to start this fall ahead. (And no, I’m not going to openly discuss my thesis either, right now; it’s categorized with the same status of my other papers: “In Progress” — I mean let’s be honest, even if I was able to explain myself succinctly, at this stage of the game would you have the patience to really listen? And then what, will you change the way you live your life today? I doubt it, so let’s just move on for now.). But MA thesis or not, I have other work to do, and I’ve got to focus. But how? Tell me. How can I learn to just pound out my readings every night? How can I learn to tune out the temptations that seem to be unforgivingly fixated at the forefront of my tumultuous ego (in every philosophical sense of the term…)?

I just want the strength to be determined. This is real life I’m playing around with. One has got to be in control with the pursuit of his goals. I just want the strength to check-out of my social worlds. The strength to let go of people. and of bad habits. But I must be willing to accept that, on the other side of now and then, many of those friendships will never be the same, if ever even recovered. I think, in a strange way, I feel too delicate or too attached to take that leap. But to do what I’m about to do this year, I really see no other way around it. I have to leap. And the world will necessarily be different when the smoke clears.

I may find myself more alone that I’ve ever been.

Medicine Cards

When I went to Reggae-on-the-River, my friends and I set up camp next to the most wonderful people in the world. A group of middle-aged friends (and sisters), from Arizona who had frequented ROTR nearly a dozen times and called themselves “The Happy Elders”. Every morning they woke us up with a fresh cup of coffee, and together, we comfortably made breakfast and did some mid-morning lounging and reading. It was pretty sweet, to say the least. One of the gals, Phyllis, a very talented handmaiden (who has a website I believe…), had this incredible book that bordered on Astrology and Tarot with a Native American twist, but it involved the power and mystique of different animals. You would draw a card, face down, from a pile of cards, and whatever was revealed on the card would be your “sign”. Then, you would look up the corresponding card in the main book to inquire about the meaning of your draw. The book was called, Medicine Cards, and the card I drew was an upside down Bear. I copied out the reading because I was so intrigued:

Bear - Introspection (right side up)

“The strength of the Bear medicine is the power of introspection. It lies in the West on the great medicine wheel of life. Bear seeks honey, or the sweetness of truth within the hollow of an old tree. In the winter, when the Ice Queen reigns and the face of death is upon the Earth, Bear enters the womb-cave to hibernate, to digest the years experiences. It is said that our goals reside in the West also. To accomplish the goals and dreams that we carry, the art of introspection is necessary.

For eons, all seekers of the Dreamtime and of visions have walked the path of silence, calming the internal chatter, reaching the place of rites of passage — the channel or pineal gland. From the cave of Bear, you find the pathway to the Dream Lodge and the other levels of imagination or consciousness. In choosing Bear, the power of knowing has invited you to enter the silence and become acquainted with the Dream Lodge, so that your goals may become concrete realities. This is the strength of Bear.”

Contrary : (when drawn upside-down; read additionally)

“If you have drawn Bear reversed, your internal dialogue may have confused your perception of your true goals. In seeking answers or advice from others, you may have placed your own feeling and knowing aside. The time has come to regain your authority, for no one knows better than yourself what is proper and timely for your evolution. Reclaim the power of knowing. Find joy in the silence and richness of the mother’s womb. Allow the thoughts of confusion to be laid to rest as clarity emerges from the West, nurturing your dreams as the Earth Mother nourishes us all.

Journey with Bear to the sweetness of your cave and hibernate in silence. Dream your dreams and own them. Then in strength you will be ready to discover the honey waiting in the Tree of Life.”

Realizations on the Roots of My Procrastination...

I realize that my passion for philosophy is directly influenced by the way I’m living my life, or rather, how I think I’m living my life. I guess I can’t say with confidence that everyone lives with a method, but I certainly take my life to be a project. My actions and thoughts all fall within a method, an effort. I try to observe my surroundings, and allow myself to ‘bounce’, to flow through time. In this way, life is a ride, and every person I meet along the way serves as a particular reference point, but a reflexive reference that re-directs the focus inward. With each interaction, I feel my Self being challenged. When I stop living my life and I get caught up in restricting routines, when I stop the flow, I lose the inspiration. This philosophical curiousity, that usually fuels my academic interests, slowly subsides — almost in the form of suffocation. I’ve been perplexed for months now on the question of re-energy: do I re-energize in the crowd, or alone? Am I an introvert or an extrovert? How do I understand myself, and then how do I respond to that Self? I think I’m all across the introvert-extrovert spectrum. I think I slide back and forth between the extremes, and that it’s the pace of my movement that has become of interest lately.

I’ve found that I analyze and dissect so many interactions with assumption, anticipation, and negotiation of other people’s ToM, that I imagine at times I come across rather ingenuine. On the one hand, I do know what it’s like to engage people by being joyfully instigative yet purely reactionary — where one hops into a conversation, with little focus, lots of energy, and just keeps inserting oneself into the other person’s words, perpetuating the whole tangential nature of the conversation (and if s/he is lucky, the other person is the same way and won’t even notice the indirection of such a social encounter, and both will spend hours just cackling on aimlessly). But rather, on the other hand, I prefer to deliberately take care of a conversation: being responsible for where it goes and where it’s been. I try to bring closure. I enjoy circular humor that references things previously discussed. I reserve issues to talk about that sparked an interest during a certain part of the conversation, but didn’t get due attention. Conversations in this way are effortful, though seemingly effortless. It’s just a payment of attention. A focus of interest. And I quickly, too quickly, make time for any/most social interactions, for the challenge of it all… it’s almost like every convo serves as research for further conversations, or further philosophy papers. I think I’m trying to say that I’ve somehow come to justify my social life not as procrastination, but as effortful research and philosophical synthesis, and I don’t know how I feel about that… admittedly, it has a nice ring to it. (ha!)

I’ve realized that in response to this rational, analytical hold that I impose on my own brain in said situations, I’ve developed a delightful habit of endulging in my own world. When in a group of people, especially a self-sufficient group where everyone clearly feels comfortable with their person and their place in the room, I conduct myself in a way where I behave or entertain myself without looking for a reaction (specific or general) from anyone. I’m looking for no sense of confirmation, no recognition — I just act for my own humor, almost as if I was by myself. There’s a glorious freedom and comfort to it… and the truth is I think I consistantly see the world in a way that is routinely jaw-dropping. As a kid, I’ve spent countless hours watching ants on the sidewalk, or birds in the trees. Commercials and pedestrians are all mystifying issues when you get right down to it and watch them. This is not to say that I zone out and lose focus of my friends in such a group setting; though maybe I do? At the very least, I appreciate when people pay me attention and find my solipsism so amusing — the distinction I guess, is that I don’t necessarily desire the attention. I’m just keepin’ it real for my Self, just letting people watch me (if they choose) without trying to regulate what’s being thought of me… this can be a very scary sense of vulnerability for some, but I think it’s a pretty fun way to just throw yourself out there… right? I mean, we’re all in the world, just trying to figure things out: what do I have to hide? I have many sides and I’m happily interrogating each, why not put them out there? You never know what may or may not come from such honesty and admittance. To this, I say, “So far, so good.”

Diatribe. Two.

It all starts to add up, the litte things we think we have to do. To the point of exhaustion. We all keep hacking away at short term goals in hopes of achieving some long term happiness. Something doesn’t rest right with me on that. Is this really the promise? Can I really live the American Dream? To even begin to wonder is to acknowledge that the dream for some IS the nightmare for others. I mean, I see where you’re comin’ from with that… we gotta save up; we gotta be ready; we gotta be safe; we gotta, we gotta, we gotta. We gotta what? What do we gotta do? You tell me. I guess I’m a lucky one, huh? And I gotta take care of my fortunate fate: to live safely and to be afforded nice things and to visit nice places and eat nice meals. I’m somebody who could quite possibly live it out, live out the american dream. I’ve got the right class, i’ve got the right cash, i’ve got the right chance. My dreams are all achievable. Because of the depth of my parents’ heart, my every worry will die in the depths of my parents’ pocket. And though I try desperately to live in spite of such financial comfort, I fall asleep at night knowing that I would be picked up if I fell… this, my friend, THIS is the luxury. Even if you deny this, even if you think they won’t help, the truth is they would. What else is there to do with this life than help out the ones that you brought INTO it?! This is safety, this is what it means to be elite, to have the american dream. Security reshaped into a state of mind. It gives you wings. You are unafraid to fly. Unafraid to fall, unafraid to fail. Not because you’re big and tough, but because you know that you’ll be picked-up. Not because you’re a survivor, but because someone will dust you off. Pamper your wounds. Kiss your face. What about the cats on the bottom? The ones that get stepped on. That live the nightmare. The love is still the same between them. But if a son should fall, a mother could only squeeze and love him, while the two shake and cry into the night because there’s nothing else that can be done. If you work hard, then maybe you’ll get by. Or better yet, maybe someone will recognize your talents, and you’ll be on your way to a better life, where your children can be born into the middle, and never look back. But wait, with all this work, how will your talents grow? How will your skills develop when your hands are calloused and your mind is tired? When six days a week you work 8am to 5pm, and can barely provide for you and your partner? And when finally you gain some stability, at the expense of your own back, will you take the risks? Will you make time to travel the world? Will you move neighborhoods? Will you save money for the future? How will you live? What safety do you have? Don’t fool yourself. If you fail now, it’s over. Back to the bottom you go. If you move, you’ll lose your job, one of the only jobs you’ve managed to keep for a full year, and then what? Are you ready for that? There’s no net below, and who will remember you if you fall? What about health insurance? What about all the bills? What, will you live out of your car? Is that how you will travel the globe? Is that your idea of revolt? Is that how you and your loved one will manage? What about hiking the grand canyon, and sailing the gulf? What about Europe? Don’t tell me you haven’t been. Get out of town? Really? What about Africa, or central America? Wait, you’ve never been on a plane. Sucks when you’re poor. Don’t like where you live? Deal with it. Don’t like what’s in your food pantry? Deal with it. Life too boring? Deal with it. Dull the senses. Drink a case, and smoke a bowl. Hide from your reality. Hide from your fear. From your pain. To be honest, that’s what the rest of us are doing anyways, but its done in a different way, on a different level. To dream or to nightmare is still to be lost in your own fucking head. The homeless are just tryin’ to get a little taste, and pass out on a dry bench under some newspapers. Gangs sling rocks and pound 40ozs malt liquor bottles in between the fights and the sales. College kids pull out 3-foot beer bongs, and slam pabsts like it’s their job, and hook-up with eachother like AIDS is a joke. Big CEO’s laugh in their insecurity, as they pop wine bottles and jokes, and carry on in excess into the night. We’re all the same down deep. Unsure how to live, but not trying to think about it. And what do we say about those who do, who do think about it? What about them? They’re crazy. They’re too idealistic. They’re out of touch with reality. Listen, reality is bigger than America. Reality involves more people than on your block, or in your community subdivision. And if we’re looking for happiness, how come I get sad everytime I see someone else struggling. Someone else suffering? I can’t turn that off. I can’t feel good when I drop $20 on a meal. I can’t feel good when I can’t finish the whole plate. I can’t feel good when a good friend is scared to chase a dream because he can’t afford it, and there’s no security blanket for him to take the leap: the same friend that offers me a beer every time I come over. Something doesn’t sit right with this. There’s something about the nature of happiness that isn’t fully being addressed. What do we all have in common? How can we speak to that? How can we start from there? The land of America was designed to be the place where the world’s dreams … and hunger, and greed, and envy, and desire… could come together. Born with the very qualities that bred our interest in America in the first place, the Americans themselves decided to quit sharing, and to keep the nation for their own. And now what? Now it’s a mess. With half the nation still living out their selfish fantasies by day and lost in a head of confusion by night, and the other half get up everyday with some envy and some hope and some deliberateness, and fall asleep at night with the universal insecurity that plagues the rest of us. When did happiness become the goal, and not the process? Religion makes it so easy. Is there ANY other way, any other way to revive the human without first dulling the mind? Tell me. Is ice cream the only cure?

Diatribe. One.

To the fullest. From the highest. Inward, I flow; like it’s my job. From left to right, stand up, sit tight. I move. Like an ocean. I just feel the current sweep over me. The dust. I’m all Smile, honestly. There’s a curl of my lip, and a smurk. A smurk that says what it says. Take it how you want. I’m me. Ha. Can’t take that away. If anything, you helped make me this way. Argue that, then. I’d listen. And the smurk would remain. Like a tree trunk on a bald mountain side. I ride with the wind. I could say such things. Time is mine to defeat. The power resides in the eye. How quickly every space is filled. Before I even have a chance to ‘let be’, I’ve already prepared for the flight. Buckle up. Strap yourselves in. I can’t be stopped. And it’s my choice to choose. Any which way I go. You can only watch in awe. You can only watch. Only watch. I move too stealth. Like nightfall, I make my move. I’d be scared if I were you. Nervous, anxious even. There’s an insincerity about it all. But an insincerity from the heart. You can’t trust an animal in a cage. The pacing itself has you suspicious. But the fuzzy mane has you fooled. In the animal kingdom, you’d second guess that shit. You’d have those laces tight if you knew. If only you could know. But you can’t. I’d have to know first, and I choose not to ask. Just roll. Rollin’ like a tumbleweed on a desert horizon. There’s a whisping nature about the whole thing. An aimless delibrateness. The moon knows what I’m talking about. It feels me, up-in-this. From the tide of my mind, I feel it’s pull. Fuck it all. There’s a wicked assembly afoot. Looming at the roots, and who’s in charge? Where are the workers? From that whence I came, to that where I go. The slightest of tales could do no right by me. Fancy that. You couldn’t guess this if you tried. Despite popular belief, it takes little effort. Little effort at all to elude you. I’m almost bored with it. The world is not ready for this. Never has been. But the leaves shake with a bit more lucidity these days. They feel the presence of it. I peer into their minds, and rearrange. From all sides I seep. It’s far too thrilling to question at this point. You just have to let it ride. On into the sunset. Where the river flows on and on and on. So soothing, and temporal. Like a mother’s hug and kiss. Sedation. I see right through you. Judge me, then. I take it in stride. And with each step you shudder. I would if I was you, too. But I’m not, so get over yourself. Yeah, I said it. And the worst part is, I mean it. You do what you have to do, you little bitch. You never stood a chance anyway. I’ve been there and back. Seen that and more. Go ahead. Run that circle. Chase that “dream.” You never could have done any differently. Even if you tried. Dare me, then. See how I respond. Watch me move through the clouds. So light-footed. So, uncharted is my path. There’s a desperation to the journey. Even YOU want to know about it. Think I’ll spend a single moment thinking of you? Guess again. There’s no time for such things. I’ve quit looking. Forward and back. Hence and forth. Thick and thin. Jump when i say so. Too good for that shit? Then you decide; like I care. Movement. In the end, it’s all movement. In the middle too, and the beginning is no different. Draw, write. Hike, sell. Parent, friend. You pick your poison. Chalk up your death. Make your mark. Find your Self. Yadda yadda yadda. Go ahead, tell me something. Anything. Then shut up about it. You don’t know me. Thought you did? Know yourself? Know yourself. I’ll drink that. I’ll smoke that. I’ll snort that. That’s what they tell me. I’ll do her. I’ll do him. That’s what they do. Who is the they, afterall? “Say somethin’ for my country people.” I got places to be. There’s no time for such things. Stop calling me. I don’t need you. Never did. I’m not interested in your stories. What’s interest anyway? When did it stop becoming pity? What, you’ve got a tougher spine? You think you’ve got it all wrapped up. Blow me. I’ve seen that swagger. I’ve thrown that curve. Catch my drift? Lean back, as far as you can go. Hold it, now. Hold it. You sucker. Don’t make me come after you. There’s a whole ‘nother face you’ve never seen. Try me, then. The sinister minister. The prisoner finisher. I’m like a blanket. And I don’t fuck with that silky shit. That milky shit. I cut you down, and cut you up. Dice it and splice it. Like a dummy. Hip hopcracy. Return me to normalcy. I can flow pretty pretty, but only conditionally. Keep my toes curled, and my leg a shakin’. No booty tonight, the mood is taken. Stomp it out. Stomp it out. Too quick like a shadow. I won’t stop for myself. Even if I was asking me nicely. You couldn’t be me if you had 10 tries. You couldn’t be me if you had 10 eyes. Watching me everywhere I went like I was top prize. I’d catch every disguise. Every morning, from shine to rise. And after all my my-my’s, I’d hug you goodbye. And I wouldn’t even shed a god. damn. tear. Heartless. Ruthless. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make you sleep tighter at night. Does that make you have a “good” day? Does that make you enjoy your fucking weekend? Another fucking weekend. Oh, joy. Up yours. With your country people. Evolution. Evolve this! Or just kill me. Cuz i won’t do it myself. There’s no time in my day, otherwise I’d… You feel me on that? You see what I’m sayin’? You hear where I’m comin’ from? Didn’t think so. So why’d you nod your fuckin’ head? Step back. ‘Fore I knock you back. I got know time for your tricks. I got know time for you games. I got know. Know. Don’t judge me. Blame me, i dare you. Weakness. It’s in your eyes. To your core. To. Your. Core. I’d turn around. I’d at least raise my head up. Hey, where you goin’? What, did I finally turn you away? Is that all it took? I’ve been trying for years to get that seperation, and now you’re just giving it away? It’s almost not fair. Turn your back on me. That’s an order. Never be interested in this. It’s not yours first of all. Second of all. Exactly. Third, then. You name it. It’s your little world, and you can fancy it any which way you please. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. Who would I be if I did? Who do you think I am? Nevermind, I’m not even listening to what you have to say. Surprise! Fuck it. And, I’m still smilin’…

Experience any epiphanies lately?

So, I stumbled onto an old post, and if the comment system was working properly on anize, I would have known much sooner that a comment was added to it. But what can you do? However, I very much appreciated the question:

> Tell me, what was your last epiphany, and how did it change your everyday life?

Epiphany. I’m going to take this definition of the word: an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking; an illuminating discovery; a revealing scene or moment.

I’m not quite sure if I’ve ever had a ‘first’ epiphany… does everyone get one? My latest thoughts have been spent looming in sheer awe of the beauty of a natural setting. When I see pictures of the world, in books or from my friends, I want so desperately to visit… so desperately to immerse myself in such a setting. I’m pent up in a philosophy grad program, racking my brain on the Ideas of things, when I know there is this sanctuary of serenity waiting for me in the open arms of mother nature.

My epiphany might be acknowledging the extremes to which mother nature is no longer very natural… or rather, humans have effected her in some way, at every point on earth. If not by the physical distruction of her roots, rocks, and critters, than surely by the intrusive disruption of her air, temperature and composition. I look out my window and see trees growing between slabs of cement, and I see bushes perfectly aligned in front of the building, with grass freshly mowed below. Has nature really become a cosmetic decoration for our twiddling fingers? Where can I go to see nature in true form? This is my epiphany…. that no where is left! Or maybe, that I must go!

My everyday life has changed very little, I guess. I have things to do here, and papers to grade/write, but the thoughts that accompany each day correspond to an ever growing restlessness within me….

My departure is forth-coming.

How Shall I Live?

How shall I live?

Antimatter

Antimatter? Get out of town….

... so as to speak out: Part II

… call it a rant, call it a lecture; the problem is that we “call” it. Our language itself undeniably prevents us from truly listening. We are a culture that is plagued with a quickness to judge and an appetite to label. Before the words are completely out of my mouth they’ve been cookie-cut into categories, and dissected into (dis-)order. From the start, I am a speaker already in a vertigo of vulnerability! To begin to speak, to begin to share the very thought I assemble, is to endure a process of filterization in the receiver, and to be slated with a historical interpretation from our past. I ask you NOT to hear me through the lens of our ‘occidental’ logic and ‘civilized’ grammar. I beg you to put down your allegiance to your society and to your theology and to your philosophy, as I have done mine. I repeat, we must shake ourselves from such linguistical constraints. Today we will speak the SAME voice; today we will speak the language of Being. You must FEEL me. This is what it is to hear. I profess only what it is that we share: Being. Say it slowly: We are all human beings. Yes my sisters and brothers, we are a being like no other. And despite the pain-staking spouts between races and genders that have plagued our chronology, and because of the merciless wars amidst religions and nations, we have come to find the very diversity that highlights our commonality. We all have Being. We are undoubtedly animal rationale: all a living, breathing, animal with the capacity for reason, and propensity for language. This unites us! As Heidegger would say, we are being and Being together, make no mistake. We are like the vague being which resides in plants and animals and life, yet we are something more: we are a subjective enterprise; a rational, emotional, contemplative consciousness; we are a being wrapped-up in the thinking of our being. It is a conversion that is necessary here. It is a conversion that must take place to bring us back to the clearing of our being, back to eachother. To truly hear one another is to restore language its originality. Let the words drip from my lips like a familiar honey, for they are in the spirit of what it is to be human. Let us speak in the original language of Being, and we will finally begin to see our place in the world. But I must admit, there will be no sugar-coating here. The reality of the world is no candy-land. Come and open your eyes, and you will see that we are living in an era that devalues the Self, that desensitizes our Being, that dehumanizes our neighbor… To be a Being is to be affected by other Beings. Every boy has his mother, and every girl has her father; our lives are filled with family and friends, with neighbors and co-workers; we act and react to strangers on the street and to employees behind the counter. We are inseperably in communion with eachother. This is the foundation from which we are able to understand what it is to be human; this is the foundation from which we must re-address what is to be called ‘Humanism.’ Let us together notice the historical interpretations necessarily woven into such a term: Humanism. The ‘-ism’ itself speaks to a langauge of tradition. But, alas, we are taking the word back! We must empower the word with originality. For too long, a systemic ideology has taken humanity by the reins, torturing us into submission, and enslaving us to ‘objective truths.’ As Sartre might say, by the right of the Divine, Christianity has once seized our nations and fed us a tangible morality. Too off-putting? Alternatively, by the insight of human brilliance, Communism has once appropriated our ambitions, and we got drunk on its unwavering definitude. Too nostalgic? To subscribe to either tradition, among others, is to forfeit the essence of our Being. There’s a primordial characteristic to Being which places the essence of humanhood at the forefront of our discussion. We are given Being first. From Being we go into the world. We are not arguing for the existence or denial of God. We are recognizing our existential plight. We know not objective certainty. We know not divine truths. We can know only what it is to experience life as a human, and even then, our path is a difficult one. Our essence, our identity, our selfhood is in a constant limbo of being while becoming, simultaneously. We discover who we are, while we grow. There can be no objectivity to this. But our commonality can bring us to an ethic. Heidegger will insist that a true Humanism is one that does not allow humankind to live outside its essence. And so, let’s take a moment to step back. Let’s take a contemplative stance and gaze at the Humanism that surrounds us. What does it look like? Are we surrounded by a humanism that embraces the essence of our Being? Where are we? I see a tension. A tertiary tension in our industrialized world between the government, the corporatations and the people. My allegiance lies with the government, by the people…

And so I rant, so as to speak out: Part I

Where do I begin? Where do I begin to vent the rage? The anguish? The pain? I feel so slight, and I know my plight, but I must keep fighting, fighting to address the issues of what it means to be a living Being; of what it means to be a human citizen of this world; of what it means to be the organized, and psychological, and conscientious, and ever-driven incarnation of Life, itself. I am that moment of now. I am that sweltering heap of action and dream. My subjectivity, my very soul is at that intersection of progress and project. I am who I make, and I make myself in coordination to my beliefs and to my goals. Ask me not what the meaning of life is, for that is a silly question: I cannot know, I cannot begin to know; thousands of years of humankind have been spent fiddling with the construction of theology, and philosophy, and society so as to bring some certainty to questions of the objective - with no avail!; for what seems to be an eternity we’ve tried to provide an ontological account for the world, we’ve tried to label it, rationalize it, control it, and you’d be insightful to say that we are NOT right back where we started… we are worse, far worse; our attempts to control the restless, unforgiving nature of the world has only led to the foolish abandonment of man towards man, to the turning our backs on our neighbor while looking eachother in the eye; our trusted philosophies, and our divine theologies with their empiricism, and their justifications have left us cold, and deserted, and naked and shivering in the shadows of the trenches, the very trenches they’ve left behind in their wake; No!, I ask, what accomplishments have we made with our capacity for reason, with our high and mighty subjectivity and reflective cogito?, I tell you, and nature whispers it to our ears every single day, “man’s unquenchable thirst for control has spun us OUT of control,” and what’s more, unforgiving nature will not bail us out, will not show us sympathy, will not restore the petroleum levels of the land or clean up the oil spills, nor digest the barrels of toxic waste; the world itself will not respond to our birth defects, our mutated viral diseases, nor human starvation; the world itself will not restore tree resources, or reconstruct ozone damage; it will not bring back extinct animalia or stop hatred, classism, sexism, racism, from dividing us further; mother nature is a palate from which we paint and by which we breathe - we have a responsibility to its preservation on account of our involvement to it. Yes sir, ask me not what the meaning of Life is, for that is a silly question. Instead, remind me of this plight. Remind me of this situation we have found ourselves in. Remind me that the world, in its absurdity and its ambiguity, will unwillingly rebel against our plundering of its lands and will unmistakably revolt against our plot to take over —- Make no mistake, we are extinguishing ourselves. With our bombs, and our greed, we’ve already killed millions, and given birth to billions(!) more that don’t stand a chance: there is an unfathomable future we’ve already raped from them (ourselves?). No ma’am, do not ask me what the meaning of Life is, for that is a silly question. Instead, after you’ve reminded me of this, of our plight, ask me if I want to live. “Do you want to live?” It is a question I wake everyday to answer, and with each new day, with each new breath, I have the freedom to answer, the choice to breath (pure? unpolluted?) oxygen into my lungs AND the choice to cut the very neck that does my breathing. I am my own possibility every second of every day, and with that I am given my choice, and with each, so far, I’ve chosen to live. And for what? For what, then? This you must decide for yourself. And let me make a recommendation. Live to embrace Life. Live to be Life. Live so that you may make the most of your Being, and by doing so, realize your communion with Others. How funny: already you can’t help but take my words and think of religious connotation —- SHAKE IT! Shake yourself from the linguistical contraints. Shake yourself free from the spoon-fed, mass-produced, line-assembled BULLSHIT. Since the industrial revolution there has been a devaluation of Self, a desensitization of Being, a dehumanizing of our neighbor…

On Presence

I must admit, I’m most intrigued with Gabriel Marcel’s notion of ‘presence.’ In his essay, “On the Ontological Mystery,” Marcel speaks of existential issues, but the topic I found most persuasive was that of ‘presence’ — the way in which people are present to eachother. The more I think about it, the more I realize that his notion of presence is one of the most central components of my life, a way in which I choose to orient myself. We academics, and I’m not afraid to call myself one, all read a lot of material, maybe too much! But every once and a while, and when I least expect it, I’ll come across a particular insight of which I’ll never let go. Presence is one of those topics. Oh, how valuable!

I’ll attempt to highlight Marcel’s notion of presence using his text:

Essentially, Marcel prompts his audience to think back, long and hard, to a time where you can remember “an encounter which has left a deep and lasting trace on all of [your] life.” He explains that, “it may happen to anyone to experience the deep spiritual significance of such a meeting — yet this is something which [traditional] philosophers have commonly ignored or disdained, doubtless because it effects only the particular person as person — it cannot be universalized, it does not concern rational being in general” (21).

He goes on to explain how some people try to justify the exact circumstances which allowed for such a meeting to happen, but Marcel is quick to acknowledge how any reasoning, how any explanation always falls short. We could say that your meeting with another person happened because you both like the same kind of scenery, or that you both attended the same county fair because you both like ferris wheels (or something like that), but any explanation of this kind will always mean nothing. The reasons for you both being in the same vicinity have very little explanative power for why you interacted. He insists, as do I, that there is something else deeply rooted beyond the domain of the comprehensible, something else that emerges only in the true confrontation, the true union, the true presence of two individuals. In presence, no longer is one an object for the other. No longer is one existing to be persuaded, to be manipulated, to be utilized by the other. Being in true, real presence to another allows us to arrive at a deeper place within the self. You no longer are alone in your own private subjectivity, but rather in perfect connection with another. You are before and within another person at the same time. It’s a new state of connectivity, a new state of genuine intimacy, and one that will offer insight and clarity to the development and confirmation of your selfhood.

He explains, “When I say that a being is granted to me as a presence or as a being, this means that I am unable to treat him as if he were merely placed in front of me; between him and me there arises a relationship which, in a sense, surpasses my awareness of him; he is not only before me, he is also within me — or, rather, these categories are transcended, they have no longer any meaning” (38). Essentially, presence allows you to transcend the very description of what you have… there are no words that do justice to presence; it becomes feeling.

Some people, he says, are unable to be ‘available’ to you as presence. He agrees that this too is hard to describe but he tries: “there are some people who reveal themselves as ‘present’ - that is to say, at our disposal - when we are in pain or in need to confide in someone, while there are other people who do not give us this feeling, however great is their goodwill… The most attentive and the most conscientious listener may give me the impression of not being present; he gives me nothing, he cannot make room for me in himself, whatever the material favours which he is prepared to grant me. The truth is that there is a way of listening which is a way of giving, and another way of listening which is a way of refusing, of refusing oneself; … Presence is something which reveals itself immediately and unmistakably in a look, a smile, an intonation or a handshake” (40).

Following along, I’ll include two snipits of quote that I think are helpful. I won’t develop them much, but I think they speak for themselves. Marcel says that, “Unavailability is invariably rooted in some measure of alienation” (40), and the second quote is: “death will appear as the test of presence” (37). I should mention on this last quote that Marcel is explaining that if we read in a newspaper, for example, about the death of Mrs. So-and-So, the event would mean nothing more to me than the subject of an announcement, but when someone has been granted to you as ‘presence’ the event takes on a whole new, and sentimental, and personal meaning. Death, in its firm and final removal of one’s presence, surely stirs within you the impact of the presence you once had between you.

The reason I bring all of this up is not to conjugate old memories of deceased loved-ones, but to address one last and final thought regarding presence. Marcel continues to develop his notion of presence and I cannot help but believe! Through experience, I can admit that I agree with the value of presence. And through experience, I can remember those who I’ve met or grown up with that are incapable of presence, incable (at times or always) of being available to presence, and it is these people that I am most intrigued with these days.

Today, Earth Day, I spent about an hour sitting in the hot sun at the amphitheater in front of the student union. There were people building a giant earth out of old milk bottle caps in the center; there was live music on stage, playing chill tunes with a groove; there were tables with free food, and flyers being handed out promoting all of these positive events; and lest we forget the people — everywhere! Of all kinds of shapes, and colors and styles and attitudes. Each acting on their own free will, in their own free way… and I couldn’t help but fade into the background and watch. And enjoy. And marvel. Not only was I thankful for a public moment where I could fade into anonymity, but I was thankful for the mental capacity to ponder. And what did I think about? Presence. Who was available to me? To whom was I available? What does it mean to be available? And this brings me to this point I’ve been hoping to make: this notion of unavailability.

“To be incapable of presence is to be in some manner not only occupied but encumbered with one’s own self. I have said in some manner; the immediate object of the preoccupation may be one of any number; I may be preoccupied with my health, my fortune, or even with my inward perfection. This shows that to be occupied with oneself is not so much to be occupied with a particular object as to be occupied in a particular manner” (42).

And now for my favorite paragraph, and one I hope resonates in the hearts of those who willingly, and with awareness, are on their path towards self-understanding and self-betterment:

“Pessimism is rooted in the same soil as the inability to be at the disposal of others. If the latter grows in us as we grow old, it is only too often because, as we draw near to what we regard as the term of our life, anxiety grows in us almost to the point of choking us; to protect itself, it sets up an increasingly heavy, exacting and, I would add, vulnerable mechanism of self-defence. The capacity to hope diminishes in proportion as the soul becomes increasingly chained to its experiences and to the categories which arise from it…” (43). “Hope” for Marcel is a term that has significant meaning as well, and certainly deserves more elaboration, but I imagine that this last passage presents its message in full regardless.

Hope will not free a soul that becomes chained, and that’s all you have to know. The secret is keeping the soul free the whole time. And for Marcel, and for me, that involves presence, and the awareness of one’s availability.

“In contrast to the captive soul we have described, the soul which is at the disposal of others is consecrated and inwardly dedicated; it is protected against suicide and despair, which are interrelated and alike, because it knows that it is not its own, and that the most legitimate use it can make of its freedom is precisely to recognize that it does not belong to itself; this recognition is the starting point of its activity and creativeness” (43).

So how does one live actively and creatively? What truly is to be had in chasing the tail? What does it mean to constitute the self, to constitute one’s very being? What does it mean to live freely?

First, be Present…

Self-Reliance...

“To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, - that is genius. Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost. … A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, … Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. … The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried.”

~Emerson, Essays - First Series, “Self-Reliance”

It would have been better not to exist at all?

This is clearly Schopenhauer’s idea, and NOT mine… but I still wrestle with it. I’ve been seriously engaging this theme for about a week now, and as I write my final paper, i thought I’d share a passage I found most convincing:

�If, finally, we were to bring to the sight of everyone the terrible sufferings and afflictions to which his life is constantly exposed, he would be seized with horror. If we were to conduct the most hardened and callous optimist through hospitals, infirmaries, operating theatres, through prisons, torture-chambers, and slave-hovels, over battlefields and to places of execution; if we were to open to him all the dark abodes of misery, where it shuns the gaze of cold curiosity, and finally were to allow him to glance into the dungeon of Ugolino where prisoners starved to death, he too would certainly see in the end what kind of a world is this meilleur des mondes possibles [best of all possible worlds].�
~(The World as Will and Representation, Vol 1, p. 325)

For the most part, rest assured, I argue with him; however, it’s clear that man’s inhumanity to man can be an awfully unbearable thought.

…sigh…

Roads of Life - (making your map)

I’m living in a way where I am aware that its all about the memories. And I know that every ‘today’ is just another day to be looked back upon from one day in the future — if I’m lucky! (both to still be alive tomorrow and to actually be able to remember it!). Everyday, then, is a wonderful memory from its start. So I cherish it. I cherish it by experiencing it at the time, and I cherish it by experiencing it with other people at the time; then, together, the two of us, or three, or four, or how ever many of us were there — when we come together, we can remember and cherish that moment together, and that, in turn, makes the ‘togetherness’ that much more special.

Its almost like I’m adding-in memories for the future … I know that I will eventually bump into one of those many people, from one of those many places, during one of those ever-so many exciting days from my rich and interactive past; and because I remembered meeting them and making that moment something extra-ordinary, I was able to asssociate that face I’m seeing before me as that old friend, that old happenstance acquaintance;

and what might have otherwise been just a passing of 2 people has now become an intersecting; and with every new interaction comes a complete new set of possibilities — this is what makes life so beautiful! At each intersection with every person you meet is another road you might be allowed to go down for a while… a road you might never thought existed, or never thought was possible, or never thought would come your way — and in this way you can continue to rebuild the road-map for your travels.

Let your friends be your travel companions, and your conversations with them be your street signs.

Our Neighbors (and my novel...)

The difference is on what keeps us up at night — When I look at my neighbor to my left, or my friend on my right, we’re all essentially doing the same thing (e.g., they’re all making decisions that we TOO are making or could make). The real difference is not on what we do, or hope to do, its how we make sense of it all —> it’s what we choose to think about along the way; what we choose to ‘get hung up on’ that varies.

In other news, I decided the title of a novel I’m going to write if my time in life so permits. It’s going to be called, “Our Time Between Hospital Visits,” chronicles of the human life; that’s all I’m going to say on that, for now… Just remember: the most wonderful thing you can do is to live and die out in the real world.

A. H. Almaas

The Diamond Approach

On death...

“Ultimately death must triumph, for by birth it has already become our lot, and it plays with its prey only for a while before swallowing it up. However, we continue our life with great interest and much solicitude as long as possible, just as we blow out a soap-bubble as long and as large as possible, although with the perfect certainty that it will burst”

~Schopenhauer, TWAWAR, Vol. 1, Book 4, Section 57

———————————
ahhh… that Schopenhauer really knows how to lay the pessimism on thick. But why not? I’m not trying to live so as to forget that death is in my future. I want death right out in front of me… right out where I can see it — at all moments. Sure, it can mock me, and meddle with my decisions, but for the moment I am on top; I am championing the game of life. I fear not, and deny not, and this becomes my fuel… I stay motivated. I dare death to come, and in the meantime, I got stuff to do. Why? Because I am the pure and rich embodiment of life — capable. progressive. striving. aware. I will not live in a way that I forget or deny that death is around the corner, and this sentiment gives each moment significance, a significance that musn’t be taken for granted or overlooked. These aren’t just words, damnit. This isn’t just something to be said and to be agreed to. This is a way to live, don’t you see? This is my mantra.

PS: I scored this Bows CD at the close-out sale of “Face the Music” for $1, and it’s revolutionalized my cognitive instability, at times, especially while staring out from the porch on warm and sunny afternoons.

On Religion... (pt. II)

Again, from Schopenhauer’s The World as Will and Representation, Volume I, book IV, Section 58:

I’ll sub-title this: “On Superstition and on Man’s Double Need”

“Now however much great and small worries fill up human life, and keep it in constant agitation and restlessness, they are unable to mask life’s inadequacy to satisfy the spirit; they cannot conceal the emptiness and superficiality of existence, or exclude boredom which is always ready to fill up every pause granted by care. The result of this is that the human mind, still not content with the cares, anxieties, and preoccupations laid upon it by the actual world, creates for itself an imaginary world in the shape of a thousand different superstitions. … Man creates for himself in his own image demons, gods, and saints; then to these must be incessantly offered sacrifices, prayers, temple decorations, vows and their fulfillment, pilgrimages, salutations, adornment of images and so on. … Intecourse with then fills up half the time of life, constantly sustains hope, and, by the charm of delusion, often becomes more interesting than intercourse with real beings. It is the expression and the symptom of man’s double need, partly for help and support, partly for occupation and diversion … and this is the advantage of all superstitions, which is by no means to be despised.”

[self note: reference purple rag and white rag; ‘Quest of Life’ and ‘Philosophy of Life’ respectively… ahhh, the alarming power of coincidence!]

The Ebb and Flow of the Human Heart

“It is really incredible how meaningless and insignificant when seen from without, and how dull and senseless when felt from within, is the course of life of the great majority of men. It is weary longing and worrying, a dreamlike staggering through the four ages of life and death, accompanied by a series of trivial thoughts. They are like clockwork that is wound up and goes without knowing why. Every time a man is begotten and born the clock of human life is wound up anew, to repeat once more its same old tune that has already been played innumerable times, movement by movement and measure by measure, with insignificant variations. Every individual, every human apparition and its course of life, is only one more short dream of the endless spirit of nature, of the persistent will-to-live, is only one more fleeting form, playfully sketched by it on its infinite page, space and time; it is allowed to exist for a short while that is infinitesimal compared with these, and is then effaced, to make new room. Yet, and here is to be found the serious side of life, each of these fleeting forms, these empty fancies, must be paid for by the whole will-to-live in all its intensity with many deep sorrows, and finally with a bitter death, long feared and finally made manifest. It is for this reason that the sight of a corpse suddenly makes us serious.

“The life of every individual, viewed as a whole and in general, and when only its most significant features are emphasized, is really a tragedy; but gone through in detail it has the character of a comedy. For the doings and worries of the day, the restless mockeries of the moment, the desires and fears of the week, the mishaps of every hour, are all brought about by chance that is always bent on some mischievous trick; they are nothing but scenes from a comedy. The never-fulfilled wishes, the frustrated efforts, the hopes mercilessly blighted by fate, the unfortunate mistakes of the whole life, with increasing suffering and death at the end, always give us a tragedy. Thus, as if fate wished to add mockery to the misery of our existence, our life must contain all the woes of tragedy, and yet we cannot even assert the dignity of tragic characters, but, in the broad detail of life, are inevitably the foolish characters of a comedy.”
[Arthur Schopenhauer’s The World As Will and Representation, Volume 1, Book IV, Section 58; Translated from German by E.F.J. Payne]

I say, engage the quote how you like, but do yourself a favor and read the complete text.

Shaun Gallagher Colloquium

This is a thought caught in its infant stage, no pun intended… but I wanted to jot it down, and this lab computer was the closest pad of paper. I’ve just left a very interesting philosophy colloquium titled, “Phenomenology and the Theory of Mind Debate” presented by Dr. Shaun Gallagher of the University of Central Florida. The general issue at hand was on ‘how we are able to understand Others’, or rather, how we understand intersubjectivity.

I came away with two thoughts. The first was quite unrelated, but stemmed from his talk of mirror neurons. Earlier today, three other students and I had lunch with Shaun and we addressed the challenges that free will is facing in many heated debates around the globe. This was the first of the discussion that I’ve been privy to, but there seemed to be a challenge that our bodies engage in some many preparatory processes that what is to be the ‘free-willing’ of consciousness is actually a secondary ability, and what secondary function can have free will. Throughout his presentation this afternoon, he made reference mirror neurons again and after considering the research method (or what I assume to be the research method), I’m very suspicious of the primacy of mirror neuorons; especially in the discussion of it as a challenge to the notion of free will. I’d like to think that there is a state of basic recognition of objects that comes FIRST and can occur without/before the activation of mirror neurons. I think mirror neurons are activated by the intentional nature of reflective consciousness, if even on millisecondal scale. I think there is an element of basic, pre-reflective consciousness that enables the visual system to scan numerous objects in a given moment, and do nothing but recognize. For example, I may be looking across the room in one quick glass and see paper on the table, a pen on the floor and mug on the windowsill, amongst other things, but I don’t believe that my recognition of these objects necessarily engages mirror neurons. Part of my reluctance to accept that mirror neurons are always engaging for every visual stimuli is partly because the psychological research (i assume) is based on showing patients one object at a time, which necessarily encourages a focus, and also because if every object in perception engaged mirror neurons the amount of neural signals would be SO much traffic occuring simultaneously. Anyway, this being said, consciousness could retain its primacy as the component that directs intention and activates mirror neurons, and thus, we might be able to salvage our notions of free will.

The second thought is one based on a question raised at the end of the colloquium. On Merleau-Ponty’s notion of “corporeal schema”, and based on Gallagher’s explanation of Primary and Secondary Intersubjectivity, we are to recognize that the subjective nature of infants is undifferentiated in regards to it separating its sense of self from the selfhood of Others. This is a pre-personal, unreflective, purely original state of subjectivity where the infant-person has yet to distinguish itself as an individual, and therefore frames experience on the basis of a group-subjectivity; this disallows the baby from recognizing a difference between it and the world around it —- it’s all one, all of the world is felt as one sense of self, as one being. As the baby grows older, and subjectivity becomes more prominent (12 months?), intersubjectivity starts to become a contemplative issue (4 years)… this process continues and the separation of self from all other things becomes hyperbolically drastic, and as older adults we find ourselves at a very skewed disposition: believing we are SO far removed from all other things, and completely individual to the point of cognitive demise and anguish. How and why do we lose touch with our oneness? All because of the self-righteous meddlings of our subconscious?

It would seem advantageous to keep your consciousness out in the open as oft as possible, so as to keep engaging other consciousnesses, and the outside world. At the very least, this may ease the painful suffering of feeling alone in the world, and tormented in our brains.

An Analogy for Consciousness

I’ll present my operating analogy for consciousness. This is how I, metaphorically, associate my relationship with Experience:

Imagine a room. Four walls. A floor. A ceiling. There’s nothing metaphorically gained by imagining a door or windows, so erase them. Just picture solid walls, on all sides of you, top to bottom. Every single millimeter of wall space is what I will call “Noumena.”

Noumena is what is available to perception and/or sensation on any level: your foot hurting, the bird chirping outside, the music on the radio, the boy on his bike across the street, the piece of spice stuck in your tooth, the light breeze coming in from the open window above the kitchen sink, your heart beat, your breath, the painting in your bathroom, the leaves twisting on the trees - anything - be it visual, olfactoral, auditoral… you name it. That is, anything happening within a given moment.

The walls of any room are made of millions of tiny bumps, and for sake of analogy, we might as well imagine that each tiny bump represents some potential fragment of noumena. And what a perfect representation! Quite literally, an entire room’s wall space would provide billions of potential bumps to examine, and our real life experience, at any given moment, affords us just shy of an infinite amount of things/feelings to experience.

Consciousness, then, is like a flashlight in the center of the room that whisks around highlighting and focusing on only a fraction of the room at a time. Consciousness can only experience a small part of the Noumena that is available to it. The catch, and there’s always a catch, is that your conciousness, is of a certain light (here, a certain flashlight). He necessarily shades the view with the light it emits. For example, the yellow beam will refract the experience, and shade it with its light yellow hue. Hence the actual wall, the Noumena, is shaded by consciousness, so what we experience isn’t quite pure “Noumena”, things-as-they-really-are, but what I will call, “Phenomena”, things-as-perceived-by-us.

Regardless, there is more. Through practice and self-awareness, we can begin to foster a secondary aspect of consciousness that physically directs the flashlight itself. Our habits and routines often keep the flashlight shining on the same section of the wall, but with focus and awareness one can physically grab and direct the beam of focus - so as to take charge, and consequently, responsibility for all (more?) experience. It’s really a beautiful thing if you think about it. How to grab onto the light is another thing.

This analogy goes on, but if I wrote any longer, I fear no one would read it (which is chill, I guess. I write for me, right?). I shared this analogy with some friends the other night, and Sam said this:

“So, meditation then, is turning of the light.”

‘Nice thought,’ I thought. And approximately 2.35 days later, Susan said this:

“I think meditation is more like taking the roof off, blowing down the walls and dropping away the floor. removing all confinement and opening it up to the light of everything — pardon, EVERYTHING” Again, nice thought. Nice thought, indeed.

The 3 Gunas of the Mind

372) Sri Bhakta-Manasa-Hamsika

� The Female Swan in the Mind; dwells in devotee’s mind.

Sri Lalita Sahasranama
(Sri Lalita Sahasranama, C. S. Murthy, Assoc. Advertisers and Printers, 1989.)

“The Human Mind

In Vedanta, the mind is regarded as a conscious force which manifests itself as intellect, will, ego and memory. The mind is called intellect, when it is concerned with discrimination, decision or bringing knowledge. The mind is called will, when it, via the nervous system, forces the body or senses into activity. The mind is called ego, when it identifies itself with the body and senses and takes part in their troubles and pleasures. The mind is called memory, when it recalls earlier wishes, thoughts, actions, events etc.

The mind works from five different levels � the unconscious, the subconscious, the conscious, yoga-nidra and the superconscious level. Of these the first three reside in the chitta (or mind-stuff) which is a certain fine manifestation of the kundalini energy. The chitta is the reservoir for all impressions and the mind must always refer to the chitta to recall earlier wishes, thoughts, actions, events etc. The conscious level corresponds to the knowledge that can be recalled without deep thinking. Any active wish or thought leaves an impression in the chitta at the conscious level, but if not repeated the impression sinks down to the subconscious level. Here it remains for a while and can be recalled by deep thinking. If not recalled here, the impression sinks further down to the unconscious level, where it remains in a causal form. In the normal, awaken state the mind cannot recall impressions from the unconscious level but they may be recalled in dreams, instinctive actions, under inspiration or by certain unconscious habits. According to Vedanta, the two remaining levels, yoga-nidra and superconciousness, can only be (intentionally) accessed by those who have practiced the techniques of yoga and meditation. (Yoga-nidra is a state in which one is asleep but nevertheless is fully aware of the surroundings).

Like everything else, the mind is composed of the three gunas and is caused by their interactions. One guna always dominates the other two, and it is the dominating guna that determines the general state of a person’s mind. A person, in which the tamas-guna is dominating, is confused and lives in darkness � tendency to anger, greed, hate, laziness etc. is prevailing. If the rajas-guna is the dominating, the person is very active and possesses a mixture of positive and negative tendencies. The rajas-guna person may lie, swindle and commit murder but for each such deed, he or she will feel deep regret and guilt. The rajas-guna either works towards tamas-guna suppressing sattva-guna, or works towards sattva-guna suppressing tamas-guna. When the sattva-guna is the dominating, the person is calm and peaceful and has a pure, powerful and concentrated mind. A sattva-guna person is always unselfish, truthful, fearless and wise.

Now, since the play of the gunas is a dynamical affair, it is always possible to change ones general state of mind. Actually, the various mind improving techniques � be they of ancient Eastern or modern Western origin � are essentially aimed at getting a hold of the rajas-guna and consciously ease it towards the sattva-guna � regardless of whether the originators and practioners may know it or not. � On the next couple of pages, the classical techniques of Eastern origin will be introduced. We shall not postulate that these are superior to the techniques of modern Western origin, but they certainly do have at least one great advantage � they have been developed and thoroughly tested for millennia by numerous practioners.”

Steen Ingemann, Guide to Ultimate Reality (www.rishi.dk/guide/)

——————-
the above found at: http://www.adishakti.org/book_of_enlightenment/sri_lalita_sahasranama_301-400.htm

Balance.

I’m all over the place. In just a matter of days, I realized I’m all over the freakin’ place. There’s no rhythm. There’s no order. I’m not satisfied. I’m behind in some areas, and too far along in others… and school just keeps on ticking — in all good ways, I must admit.

However, language is not doing it for me. And ultimate isn’t expressive enough. I just need to get out. Or stay in. Or do something. Change is what I’m lookin’ for. Not sure how though. Lately, I’ve been dreaming of setting Club Ulty on the back burner, and kickin’ it around this summer. Just to really take some time for myself. Who knows. It could be with good people, or not. At this point, it doesn’t really matter. The body feels good these days, but the mind is restless, and that’s not balanced. I’m meandering through my days without intention … and that needs to change.

It just needs to change.

The way it is, Pt II

Lives are changing. The way we live is changing. The way we interact with Others is changing. Our ability to be people is different that those that have come before us. In a recent post I made mention of our perpetual struggle to include in our lives all the good people with whom we’ve “shared different intersections on the road network we call Life.”

Traditionally, friendships have been maintained by walking together down this so-called road. Living similarly. Having common experiences. The other day, a friend described this as the act of “sharing routines.” This makes sense. This is why, in friendship, in addition to common experience, there’s a quality of dependability, of accountability. With close friends, or partners you generally know where these people are or where they go. There’s a certain comfort in knowing these things about them — it’s almost a privilege (and a justification for knowing someone better than someone else!). However, we’re living in an era where the way we engage relations is changing.

The routines are becoming less frequent; or maybe I should say the routines aren’t become more frequent but rather the routine itself is based on interactions that happen infrequently. We establish relations with others that are built on saying ‘hello’ or dropping a visit or email or phone call every week, or every two weeks, or every month — or every blue moon. The spacing is different. This creates a disparity between people. Some (few?) know all the mundane activities of your day. Some (more?) know the major ups and downs of your week. And still others hear only of your largest and most influential experiences of the month or year.

In fact, a friend emailed me the other day and said, verbatim:
“How are you? I am all right. 2004 was a pretty good year for me. I was in New York for a bit, I ran a marathon, I met some really nice people, I fell in love, and I learned a lot. It wasn’t all great: I did poorly in school and fell out of love. Was it a good year for you?”

I rest my case. I value these friendships as much as any other, arguably more so since, because of time and distance, these relations hang on a more sensitive and impermanent balance. But these days I am beginning to wonder if the modern person is learning to live by these types of ‘infrequent’ relations. I say infrequent, but I might as well mention ‘random’. The more time in between encounters, the less reliable or predictable the next encounter will be. If I tend to talk to you every three weeks, there really is nothing to complain about if we speak next in 25 days. And after that, what really is the difference if you don’t call me back for 4 weeks? Plainly, nothing. Granted, certain people need more or less predictability, and they’ll often show you or tell you that, but on the whole, it seems that the frequency is less important than the pattern or ratio itself. There’s a common agreement. Unsaid, but understood.

So how does this affect our lives? Well, we have more freedom of movement. We are less tied down to one particular place, yet each place we choose to go is socially comfortable. You see, the road signs in our lives now lead to a bagillion places based on all the people we’ve met and have chosen to create a pattern of relations to (however infrequent) — and what’s more, we have newfound incentive to travel, to move, to relocate because of them. Why? Cuz, quite frankly, these other people that we’ve met are just like us, just as inviting to you as you are to them, but they live in other places. You’re welcome to spend a weekend in Boise with a friend you met at Ben Harper concert, or a summer in New York with that friend you met in Ghana — all made possible since you still keep in mild contact with him or her. Of course, upon arrival, you’ll use his/her routine until you get one of your own, and whether you stay close or become more independent is another issue all together. What matters is that freedom of movement.

This freedom adds a dimension of spontaneity to our lives that has never quite existed nearly as dramatically as it does now, in the 21st century. I beg to argue that we (some of us at least) are addicted to living in this spontaneity, ‘being in the flow’. It’s an unpredictable predictability. I don’t know what will happen next, but I can guarantee that something unexpected will happen. I will hear from some random acquaintance, or be invited to some random endeavor. To keep the cycle afloat, I imagine I need to be providing the same unpredictable excitement for Others — whether it’s inviting persons to come with you on some (weekend, month-long, summer-long?) adventure or whether its telling a friend that you’ll be in their area and would love to hook-up. It’s all part of the same spontaneity. The same motion of freedom.

So, the question becomes: What is preferable? A small, confined and isolated world of a handful of relations that you call ‘intimate’ (and I’d argue that most of these friends are by proximal default) or an expansive, unpredictable world of hundreds of relations and opportunities (based around friends that you’ve met and chose to maintain)? The question really isn’t that easy, and I did not intend to paint one scenario prettier than the other. I really have no answer, I just see the different ways that we can live. I could make arguments for this in regards to international relations and foreign policy… but, frankly, I’m done on this thought today….

Dirty Beatniks

First of all, this weekend has been incredible, on many levels. But we’ll begin with talk of the closing of Face the Music on 13th. This is a sad time, because I’ve really come to enjoy that joint. There’s cool cats inside that know music, and run a quality business that serves musical needs of the people. I’ve come across, by word of mouth and purchase, many new good tunes in their CD shop. But, alas, they’re going out of business… and having an incredible sale.

I picked up 17 new CDs… all of which are diamonds in the rough. Seriously. (This isn’t even mentioning the 7 sweet CD’s I recently received from Digate-International, nor the tunes from the Ryck-man, nor from Seattle-Spence, but… so it goes). As for my Friday endeavor: we’re talking some quality hip-hop albums, solo banjoists, blues, soul, African Tribal, smooth jazz, reggae… and more. I felt like I got it all, and for $30… and all I want to do is go back. But, let’s not get derailed, this is an entry dedicated to the passage found inside the CD jacket for a band named, Dirty Beatniks.

I can’t get enough of it. I just put on my headphones and my perception of the world changes. Things are positive. Apparently, they have another CD out called, Existentialism, which doesn’t surprise me. I look forward to our relationship. Vocalist Mau seems chill. Anyways, so, though long, here’s the inside passage, a prosaic diatribe of sorts — well worth your time:

“SOMETHING MORE THAN lust and desire drove us here. Something burnt away our feelings. Now all we seek is electricity, always, even if it ain’t our turn, even if we ain’t next in line, we’ll say. “No really, it’s okay, we’re fine,” and then we’ll be with some people that we don’t really wanna be with, laughing like idiots, til’ we’re all as empty as Jesus. And now the thunder makes no noise, and the lightning just adds to the light, and the rain washes nothing away, we’re going nowhere, everyone’s here to stay. The two of us ended up in a car-park, talking watt-lessness, waiting for the dark to break, to take on the angel-shark as it made it’s way straight through the nebula. “You just left her there,” a voice said. “Sandy, Budd, which one are you? You just left her there,” it said, “and by now she’s most probably dead.” It’s different now, it was always gonna be, since you told me you never wanted me. I see your face, you’re on top of me, you wanted me for nothing, so why are we still fucking? I’m bullet proof but not for you, you’re the only one that can last straight through. We fix each other, we’re more than lovers, sister and brother, we fix each other. That’s us, looking at us, in a mirror, in a night club, that’s us outside, in a cab, going for a ride, that’s us in a bar, we drink our drinks, we drink ‘em fast, that’s us outside, in a cab, going for a ride. I wonder what you look like in the daylight, I’ve only ever seen you at night. Big pout, hustles her way through the crowd, straight to the speakers, she wants to hear it where it’s loud. She ain’t oblivious to who she is.

“SO, MAU, WHY DON‘T you just pack it all in, man? why don’t you go to Paris and write a book like we saw that man do in that film with Parker Posey and Boris Karloff and you said, “That’s so cool, that’s so fly,” you said that that’s what you were gonna’ do? “Or why don’t you just go and get a job at Mac’s or something?”
Silver Boy asked.
“Maybe I will,” I breathed.
“What, go to Paris?” he asked.
“No, get a job at Mac’s.”
“Yeah, that sounds cool, and while you’re in there picking up an application form, can you pick me up a milkshake?”
“Yeh sure, what flavour?”
“Uh, any flavour but vanilla, last week some girl told me that my semen smells like vanilla milkshake. I think I’ll be off vanilla shakes for a while. Make it strawberry, you can’t really go wrong with strawberries can you,” he said and clicked off.

NOTE: I’ll add one last aside - one line stood out above all others for me. It was, “I want out of … Dead people’s dreams.” And like a fist to the chest I felt a suddent thud, and loss of breath. Is that what I’m doing? It seems to me that any attempt to philosophize and bring coherence to the world is just a distant dream belonging originally to all those before me… and at that moment I felt insignificant… For what dream of my own am I really living?

… and I had no immediate answer.

Change

Today I saw a poster in passing that read something to the effect of:

“Some Talk Change.
Others Create it.”

I’d initially liked the passage. I then began to contemplate what side of the statement I was on. I’ve been doing a lot of talking about change lately. Does this mean I’m not creating any?

Definition of Love

To date, this is my favorite quote about “Love.” It’s from Corelli’s Mandolin, and goes a little somethin’ like this:

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts and then subsides. When it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have grown so intertwined that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Love is not breathlessness, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. It is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body… that is being “in love,” which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away. Your mother and I had it; we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree, not two.”

Man's Searching for Meaning

“Meaning” is probably my current philosophical epicenter. Not the unveiling of it, but the construction of it (and consciousness’ role as the “maker of meaning”). Regardless, I found a quote I really, REALLY liked by Viktor E. Frankl (1959). Dr. Frankl, a psychiatrist and neurologist who was imprisoned at Auschwitz and other Nazi prisons, developed a theory of “logotherapy” which “focuses its attention upon mankinds groping for a higher meaning in life.” I’ve clearly taken a liking to his insights, as he had this to say:

“What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for some goal worthy of him. What he needs it not the discharge of tension at any cost, but the call of a potential meaning waiting to be fulfilled by him… [People] lack the awareness of a meaning worth living for. They are haunted by the experience of their inner emptiness, a void within themselves; they are caught in that situation which I have called the “existential vacuum.” … This existential vacuum manifests itself mainly in a state of boredom… Not a few cases of suicide can be traced back to this existential vacuum… Sometimes the frustrated will to meaning is vicariously compensated for by a will to power, including the most primitive form of the will to power, the will to money. In other cases, the place of frustrated will to meaning is taken by the will to pleasure… Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of life is, but rather must recognize that it is he who is asked. In a word, each meaning is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible …” (p. 166-172)

5 years ago, Leadley gave me the book, The Alchemist, and today I’m finally reading it. I’m enjoying Coelho’s discussion of “Personal Legends,” clearly.

Operationally defining "The World"

Something I think I’ve settled on:

When we make mention of/reference to “the world,” we are implying that (those things, systems, structures, beliefs, etc.) which we are not questioning at the present moment.

This was something I jotted in my journal 2 months ago. And today, I opened up Schopenhauer’s book, “The World as Will and Representation, Vol. 1.,” and what’s the first sentence he’s written:

“The world is my representation”

… how appropriate. Schopes, you feel me, dawg. (Ninja, please).

Watching Bailey

[This is an entry in my journal from 12/24/04. Though I don’t remember writing it, I felt like sharing…]

“I’m watching my dog right now, in my living room in Wauwatosa. Her heart and lungs are working overtime to accommodate her old age. She moves everso slowly, rarely getting out of the way of any of the family members. Her hair is thinning and her bones are more pronounced, as the muscle and fat begin to melt away into a sea of droopy skin. She is in her last year of life, no doubt. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if the next moment was her last. Whether it would sadden us is another story altogether. She stares out into space most of her waking life. It’s when we make eye contact that I begin to wonder. Is it affirmation she is after? Love? Care? It couldn’t be more primitive, could it? I mean, she’s eaten already, gone to the bathroom already. Its as if she’s crying out, reaching out.
It makes me dream of a time where I too am so old and elderly — where my lungs and heart are failing me, where all of my bones and joints hurt with every movement, but, despite it all, I’m still alive and fighting, knowing that today is not my last — what then? What would I be caught thinking? Feeling? Saying? And most of all… to whom????

Favorite Philosophy Journal?

I may have just stumbled on my new favorite philosophical journal!

Journal of Concsiousness Studies: controversies in science & the humanities

An article titled, “Evolving the Mind: On the Nature of Matter and the Origin of Consciousness,” brought me to it. Needless to say, I’m stoked. … now if only my library had the book….

[by the way, this guy is tooo far-out….]

On Religion... (pt. I)

The question I am raising of late is whether or not all forms of meaning are constructions of consciousness, aka. ‘the Maker of Meaning’. I will suggest that forcing consciousness to make meaning of itself is the most intriguing activity possible within the human predicament, but that’s a topic for another time. For now, I’d like to make reference to a passage I randomly found. I have many thoughts about it. Despite his choppy english, I hope the leap this author makes in regards to language and meaning is obvious, and further, I hope it raises your eyebrows as high as mine:

“John Locke (1632-1707), an English 17th Century philosopher stated that humans are social animals, and that language is a tool which humans use to make their respective intentions known. With the advancement of science and technology, this view of language came to be seen as self-evident, and widespread acceptance came to be given to the view that language is nothing more than a means for the transfer of information by human beings. This way of thinking lies at the base of the consciousness of people in the contemporary world. Yet, as long as language is nothing more than a tool for people to use in their social lives, then religion, in which people are saved through the Word, cannot become established. This would cause the collapse of very foundation of Shin Buddhism, which holds that the Buddha is the Name and that people who entrust in the be saved. The problem, however, lies in the question of whether language is nothing than a human tool as Locke had posited.

“I believe that Locke’s view of language applies only to the language of everyday life, the purpose of which is practicality or utility. Certainly, words in our ordinary lives are always used as means to obtain some end. For example, if I go to a flower shop and say, ‘Please give me that rose,” I use those words in order to obtain a rose. Upon receiving the rose, those words are no longer of any use and I discard them. The realm of our everyday lives is such that, in the instant that words are born, they immediately die. There, the possibility that words could be born, become perfected, and continue forever does not arise. Words are never anything other than simple means and never become identical with the end itself. Thus, in our ordinary lives, we may seem to put our faith in language, but, in reality, we do not. We are not able to encounter true language in the sense that, upon saying or hearing that language, our salvation could be immediately realized. Shinran stated the world of ordinary beings, filled with blind passions, is entirely “empty and false” (soragoto tawagoto). I believe that he was describing the state of our everyday life, in which we cannot get beyond the sign-like words that we use within it.”

The System; Our Legitimizer?

The only reason we can begin to despise the system is because it exists. We can only begin to imagine living outside the system because the system is in place. There seems (conceivably) to have always been a system. It has changed over the years, and in part, probably, by those choosing to live outside of it (i.e., those that live outside, pave the foundation of the next system to come). But what if there really was no system? What alternative would this be? How would our thought manifest itself if there really were no superficial concepts of meaning floating around out there, or should I say, if the current system wasn’t spoon-feeding meaning down our throats? —

The ways in which we begin to reflect on our consciousness are in direct contrast/comparison to the system. It is a testament to the minds before us that a system is even in place. But it would seem that the very idea of a system is what makes it possible for one to even constitute his/her consciousness in the first place - even if s/he exists (or is trying to exist) outside of the system. What is it about the system that makes it seem so necessary? Is it necessary?

What would it be like with absolutely no system? Could we even begin to work on our consciousness otherwise? We would be plagued by need and appetite. At the very least, the system provides us the leisure to contemplate, doesn’t it? Isn’t that why contemplation is so fervent now? I guarantee if I was sick, starving and dying, I wouldn’t be producing much …

Nihilism (or Realism?)

Yesterday, I was caught saying outloud the things I only think about; over dinner, I had a ragingly nihilistic conversation. I take that back, it wasn’t even a conversation. It was me. Arguing for the very things that distract me and thwart my conception of progress. There wasn’t room in this monologue for other opinions. Counter arguments could be raised, but they were quickly absorbed into the nothingness I was proposing.

What did Nietzsche let out of pandora’s box? (And why are Sartre and I applauding?)

We are a plagued people. Step back for a moment. Look at this world. Watch the ingnorance of the playful child building castles in the sand. Gaze at the nonchalance of an elder on a bench with a newspaper. The mother taking her kids out to dinner. The study group meeting over drinks. The routines. The despicable nature of habit. Our onerous unoriginality. It’s pathetic. And what’s more, it’s empty. Void of any real significance. Of any real meaning.

And let’s say you realize this. What do you do? Where do you go? No where. Everwhere is the same. At best, you’ll tell me to to take some time off, “go hiking around the world,” you’ll say. Is that the best you can offer, the best I can do? To give in to the distraction and marvel at things bigger than me? Nonsense. It’s Life itself that’s the culprit. You can’t take off time from Life. Well, you can, but once. And it’s a permanent choice. Tempting, I’ll admit, but death will happen anyway, so let us advance our predicament before the eternal unconsciousness claims us. Now, then, the actual moment of Now, is the only time we have; tomorrow can’t be trusted to involve you. And don’t for a second deny that.

I asked you a question. Is that the best you can offer? Or will you persuade me to subscribe to science, or to destiny, or worse, to religion? These are not Real. These are constructions of meaning, provided by bewildered and feeble ramblers. We cannot know of these things. Their truths lie in our hopes. They provide the distraction. They keep us from considering the nothingness. These delusions dillute our sovereign thought. Our capacity to be consciously situated in our own lonely being.

Go ahead. Sign-up. Join the masses. Graduate high school. If you can get there, your next highest ambition is college. Then grad school. Eventually, you scramble to get a job. Perpetuate the cycle. Acquire assets. Marry. Raise a family. At 65, when you and your empty-nest partner finally retire you can invent things to do - travel, write or read, watch grandchildren. Let’s call this wasting time. It’s all the same. At any moment of any day at any age, you have the same options. Freedom is fantasy. It is choice. Not of what, but of when. There is a system in place, and for most, success therein is embraced as the goal. For me it is the game.

You can’t not engage the system (the game). The system is too strong. The system is so deliberate in its persuasion, in its distraction, in its production that, if you defy it, it will find you. It will condmen you. Chastise you. Ostracize you. Once dismissed by the system, you will no doubt feel the burden of phsyical and mental torture and torment. Our culture isn’t just good at keeping your head up - it’s good at keeping down those that want you to look around. The poor. The meak. The crippled. The fanatic. The ingenius. The exceptions.

Our fear, manifested by the system, locks these people up and hides the keys. Sentenced to isolation in prisons, or institutions, or the streets, these people, some plagued with their realness and their position in the nothingness, dwindle to their demise - wholly unnoticed. These people die with the truth; with the truth that their is nothing. The masses cannot handle this. They don’t want to. It would stop the wheel from turning. It would stop the feeling of progress. Each member is a cog. An unrealized, unwilling cog, confined to the motions of our nation, set in place by many god-fearing puritan men long ago.

The members are weak, spineless specimens by nature. Unable to bare the empty truth of existence. But, they are not to be discounted. Not only is each capable of seeing the Realness of the world, but together they form a force. Even if fighting for unreal ideals, they are a mass. They provide a force and this ‘collective will’ will stamp out any uprising, crush any voice that puts their reality in question. It’s the collective will that killed Scarface. The collective will that stopped Hitler (and empowered him!). The collective will that defends America’s regime, both within and beyond its national border. It must be recognized and respected, especially if you plan to maneuver in, around and despite it.

If we agree to dismiss what we can’t know, we are left with nothing. A world void of inherent meaning. Don’t you see, we construct the meaning. We are machines for meaning. We create it. That’s our purpose… our biological purpose. Our biological plight. How infallibly superficial. And most, when faced with this superficiality or before they even get a chance to!, choose to secede from our natural predicament and accede to the safety and meaning of the system.

So where does this leave us? We see that the world is nothingness. That meaning is made, not given. Now what? Let us not forget, we are conscious. We possess consciousness and everything from our mouth and from our pen is of our creation. Our world, the story we tell, is our choice. We choose the words we use. Every syllable is of our creation. To be heard and understood by others is to necessarily be affecting the world. We are conveying a message that has never been said before, in the way it was said. It is our consciousness, and it alone, that is of value.

On consciousness, one can abandon its peculiarities and non-consciously feed it the distraction of the external system and the meaning that comes with it. Or, one can concede the nothingness of our predicament and investigate, on a meta- level, the ways in which we begin to ascribe meaning to it, the complexities of our consciousness. We must seperate ourselves from the madness. Isolate our consciousness so as to understand it, to know it. Consciousness is our only unique feature. Our only potential to transcend the system put in place to distract us.

Every step you take should be embodied in an air of awareness. Every move you make should be strictly analyzed. Every emotion you show, every breath you take should be recognized. You are responsible for yourself. You must distinguish you conscious contribution.

This fortuitous reality is not for the weak at heart. It is for those that are willing to die; willing to die making progress within the self. It is a road less traveled. A road with no maps, no signs, and dead philosophers littered in the gutters. Without meaning, life is utterly and disasterously worthless. Without meaning, it is better to die. So if a quest for actualized consciousness is too Real for you, than I suggest you quickly sign-up to support the Wheel, unless you already have…

I step back. This isn’t an essay. The arguments aren’t formal. It’s all flow. I have two final papers due in 5 days. And I need to maintain the facade.

Mumia Abu-Jamal

I recently acquired a new Immortal Technique CD. Immortal Technique is Real. That’s all I can say. He’s probably too much and too hard for most, but he puts it down, and I listen.

In this CD, he uses a sound-bite of a radio broadcast of an essay called, “Hip Hop or Homeland Security”, by Mumia Abu-Jamal. This opened up a whole can of worms for me. I had to check out more of Mumia.

If you have a night to face real issues, I’d suggest starting here:

— Mumia’s Essays
— What’s happening in his case
— His webpage
— All of his Radio Broadcasts
and
— A Story you should definitely consider…

There’s a truth in everyone’s voice. This is all worth listening to.

I’ll make one quick note: I’ve been bombarded, lately, by thoughts of how Real other people’s lives are, in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. From my friends that I see everyday, to guerrila soldiers in jungles, to starving children in desolate lands, … each person lives in a reality that is as real (for them) as my own reality is for me. Artists like Immortal Technique, movies like City of God, and many of my daily considerations make me feel their consciousness, their Realness… and it’s almost frightening. Almost.

On stories again...

There’s something to be said for the fact that I confidently feel: I could tell a story for every moment of my existence, … however short or however long that moment may be.

And surely this suggests something other than me being a good story teller! It only implies a (the?) way in which we necessarily experience the world.

Scarface

I watched Scarface the other night. I’m starting to believe that the secret to amassing (maintaining?) power is staying below the radar of the collective will. I will speak more of the collective will. But for now, I just needed to make a note to myself.

I’m infallibly attracted to Tony Montana. The idea of him. The power of such a being. His hunger. His drive. This is a well-grounded man, in respect and in honor and in trust. These are ideals. His ideals. But ideals we could share, no less. And if you can’t see that, fuck you.

the stories we tell

It’s about the stories we tell, right? This whole gig. This whole life gig. Aren’t we just pushing forward, or perhaps side to side, riding the wake of the stories we tell and live? It’s worth proposing.

This weekend was a full one. My hoarse voice should serve as an indication that I made certain use of all my waking moments. Some prospective grad students were in town, and over the coarse of the weekend, 3 of us began inquiring about eachothers’ childhoods. Innocently at first, about growing up in Miami, or Wyoming, or Milwaukee. I began as an outsider, but with paid attention and advertent eyes, I was slowly brought in.

Most students’ stories dealt with broken families, divorce parents, and abusive patterns. There was a personal struggle; a need to overcome. A sense of triumph, of subversion. Onlisteners responded with “oohs” and “ahhs” and “oh no’s” and “I’m sorry to hear thats”. Everyone shared, and soon people were looking at me. It was my turn.

Where do I begin? But this question is all too cliche. Most of me knew these weren’t people that would take a huge investment in me. We were most likely never to talk again, especially in this context. Providing the fullest, clearest detail was of no importance. I was free. Free to concoct my own reflective reinactment. I spattered forward. Covering whole epochs of time in short, choppy dialect. Sweeping from event to event. It was a list. A flow chart. An outline of the stories I could tell. It was so objective.

At this realization i found myself outside of those experiences. I ended by saying, “and that… that was my childhood. But they’re just stories now. Aren’t they? They’re just stories now. I’m a becoming-being now, a progressive identity now. I like who I am. I can appreciate where I’ve been. You might say it’s where I’ve been that’s, in part, made me who I am. But they’re just stories now.”

I wonder how reasonable it is to think that stories necessitate being. They foster it. They provide it. It’s only through stories that we relate to other people and places and events. Through stories that we catch up with an old friend; through stories that we make business negotiations; through stories that the breadth of life is passed (pun intended).

But as much as we must tell stories to secure the past, we speak of our past to stay in the present. But to be aware of our present we must storify (!) our experience as it happens. We must have a story for living, a system for life. One story must always be in the making.

And to catch people in this level of the game, Aware and struggling to know it, is what sweeps me off of my feet. You can see the energy in their eyes. That commitment to living in their stride. These are the ones that incite passion into moments, and infuse consciousness into being. These are the story-tellers.

RE: Whoa...

Whoa…

incomplete thought

I’m reading some works of William James, specifically a chapter called “Does ‘consciousness’ exist?” in a comprehensive writing book of his and I started to wonder:

• can I conjure up a conscious thought of smell or of touch?
• doesn’t consciousness, at least for me, seem so visual? (aside from it’s obvious meddlings with language…)
• what is consciousness for the blind?

Sanibonani!

Sometimes the things we find our selves saying (ie: at Ultimate
Tournaments, YMCA Camps and in the comfort of our own homes) transcend the contexts and traditions of our own culture. I have, personally, been witness to many rhetorical pronouncements that seem to rise up from the depths of one’s soul without any clear applicability to the given situation.

In response, many myths have emerged in hopes of explaining such verbal declarations, for example, the wild and energetic, “Jabu” call. Old cliches, Bars, Restaurants, and Internet Advertisements alike have all attempted and failed to provide reliable contextual relevance to such a phrase-of-mystery, and what’s more, most are still unsettled with the actual pronunciation of the term (yah-boo?, yaboo?, ja-buoy?, yeah-buj?, jeh-bool?, etc…).

All we can really say, is that there is something special about the word that makes us feel a little better, but the question remains, “Why?”

I won’t pretend to offer you a solution here, but I will direct your attention to a slice of culture on the other side of the world that seems to embrace a seemingly similar term, with a seemingly similar sense of elusiveness. Right or not, I think we are on our way to understanding, more precisely, the absolute nature of the word in question:

http://www.potential.origins.of.the.infamous.’Jabu’-term.edu/

So, I say to you, “Yebo!”, and good day!

PS: please disregard the repellant picture of my wife at the bottom of the webpage. I asked her not to post things from our personal album, but… what can you do? Yebo!

Phenomenology

I’m am absolutely loving my Sartre class. This week’s reading was/is on phenomenology and the writings of Husserl. I will readdress this entry (hopefully) and explain phenomenology and little more holistically (or at least my interpretation), but for now I need to write down this quick paragraph, provided by Robert Sokolowski, in his book, Introduction to Phenomenology - so here goes (pg 46):

“Since we live in the paradoxical condition of both having the world and yet being part of it, we know that when we die the world will still go on, since we are only a part of the world, but in another sense the world that is there for me, behind all the things I know, will be extinguished when I am no longer part of it. Such an extinction is part of the loss we suffer when a close friend dies; it is not just that he is no longer there, but the way the world was for him has also been lost for us. The world has lost a way of being given, one that had been built up over a lifetime.”

The second last sentence is truly my favorite. We all make this world into our own reality (our own intentions), and each interpretation is such a beautiful and inspirational creation, and to follow the progression of one’s (a friend’s perhaps, or partner’s) relationship with the world over time makes the value of your connection with him/her that much more powerful. And, inversely, makes death, or the absence of that vision, that much more potent.

general purpose ... consciousness?

“Real calculators carry out their functions by virtue of how they are wired. The calculators of Windows carry out their function by virtue of programs written to imitate real calculators. As Turing showed, computers are general-purpose devices that can be programmed to imitate any special-purpose device. The vitrual calculators seem to work just like the calculators they mimic, but the electronic work done behind the scenes is completely different. Broadly speaking, every program running on a computer implements a different virtual machine. The calculator programs create a virtual calculator, a flight simulator creates a virtual airplane, a chess program creates a virtual chessboard and a virtual opponent.

“Dennett proposed that consciousness is a virtual machine installed by socialization on the brain’s parallel processor. Most important, socialization gives us language, and in language, we think and speak one thought at a time, creating our serial-processing conscious processors. Human beings are remarkably flexible creatures, able to adapt to every environment on earth and aspiring to living in space and on distant planets. Animals are like real calculators, possessing hardwired responses that fit each one to the particular environment in which each species evolved. People are like general-purpose computers, adapting to the world not by changing their physical natures but by changing their programs. The programs are cultures that adapt to changing places and changing times. Learning a culture creates consciousness, and consciousness is adaptive because it bestows the ability to think about one’s actions, to mull over alternatives, to plan ahead, to acquire general knowledge, and to be a member of one’s society. It is through social interaction — not through solitary hunting, foraging, and reproduction — that individual humans and cultures survive and flourish.”

—-

I woke up this morning. Headed to the (my?) old PLU psych lab to clean out my desk and gather my things. I found a note in my handwriting on a small piece of paper that read, “Blog: p442 H.S.” I soon realized I must have been referring to my “History and Systems” Psych text. I opened the book to the cooresponding page, and found two paragraphs bracketed and “Blog this!” in the margine. I don’t even remember reading this. It was highlighted and everything. I must have powered my way through this chapter in the wee hours of some mid-may night and, to my surprise, this text and i have reunited. And how interestingly so…

[“A history of Psychology - main currents in psychological thought”, 6th edition; Thomas Hardy Leahey, pg. 442]

Forget about road rage.

I wonder if, during those brief glances at those driving in the lanes next to us or those we’re about to pass on our right, if we’re all in fact subconsciously judging them, to better determine and prepare our instincts in the event something unpredictable/unordinary/dangerous occurs. Or are we all just forgetting how nice it feels to smile at a stranger?

Coincidence

Coincidence is what seems to give life value; because it’s only chance that your life took you where it did. ‘Coincidence,’ then, is the only real constant in life.

Just a thought (that I didn’t really care to elaborate on).

Gwen's Quotes

One can acquire everything in solitude - except character.
Marie Henri Beyle (1783 - 1842)

You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one.
James A. Froude (1818 - 1894)

Many persons have a wrong idea of what constitutes true happiness. It is not
attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.
Helen Keller (1880 - 1968)

Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.
Mahatma Gandhi (1869 - 1948)

The vitality of thought is in adventure. Ideas won’t keep. Something must be
done about them.
Alfred North Whitehead (1861 - 1947)

I said to myself, I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has
taught me - shapes and ideas so near to me - so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn’t occurred to me to put them down. I decided to start
anew, to strip away what I had been taught.
Georgia O’Keeffe (1887 - 1986)

Knowledge must come through action; you can have no test which is not
fanciful, save by trial.
Sophocles (496 BC - 406 BC), Trachiniae

Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous.
Confucius (551 BC - 479 BC), The Confucian Analects

Whoso neglects learning in his youth,
Loses the past and is dead for the future.
Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC), Phrixus

Life is something that happens when you can’t get to sleep.
Fran Lebowitz (1950 - )

The life which is unexamined is not worth living.
Plato (427 BC - 347 BC), Dialogues, Apology

Life is just a mirror, and what you see out there, you must first see inside
of you.
Wally ‘Famous’ Amos (1936 - )

Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it.
Andre Gide (1869 - 1951)

Men are wise in proportion, not to their experience, but to their capacity for
experience.
James Boswell (1740 - 1795), Life of Samuel Johnson, 1791

To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must
observe.
Marilyn vos Savant

Me (well, at least right now anyways)

I think, fundamentally, I wander wondering.

What about you? What do you do?

Charity

Throughout the course of Christian history, we have seen virtues and vices emerge as wholly important issues in modern western civilization. Christian values seem to have evoked a more sensitive and judgmental culture that strives to be more cognizant of the actions of our fellow countryman and churchgoer. The belief in an omniscient God has instilled a healthy fear in the average Christian – God might be watching! But this same belief in an omniscient God has given rise to philosophical inquiries that specifically juxtapose the problem of evil against the need for good moral agents (see thinkers such as St. Thomas Aquinas or Nelson Pike). God, with his omniscient powers, seems to offset the problem of evil by providing purely good moral agents to roam the earth, doing His good deeds. It has then become the quest of Christian followers to live in this altruistic image of God, which we have conjured up over the years of bible-reading and nightly-praying. It is my belief that the notion of charity has become a destructive force in the history of western civilization, imposed on its people by the religious, specifically Christian, doctrines that hypocritically attempted to convert outsiders into avid believers on the grounds of ‘teaching them to be charitable and to live in God’s image, too.’

Any organization or institution that truly exemplifies the virtue of ‘charity’ would have a better track record of accommodation and understanding. If charity is said to have been a benign and wholesome force in the history of (Christian) Western civilization, then we would not have seen the brutal and forceful colonization of Northern Africa and Central America in the name of God. We would not have seen the fear of condemnation within cutting edge scientific thinkers like Descartes or the burning of the works or of the bodies of liberal individualistic writers. Charity does not allow for 200 years of sweeping the countryside with swords in hand, cold-bloodily-massacring people with different beliefs. Charity does not encourage the hoarding of tax dollars from the very people that can barely pay them, nor the control and manipulation of state wealth for institutional esteem and prowess (did I mention for tall, elaborate, gothic churches and castles?).

The importance of charity, I must admit, has been at the forefront of Christian efforts and endeavors. The significance and value placed on charity has incurred tremendous clout (perhaps specifically) because of the incredible emphasis Christianity has put on how well people exhibit the quality of ‘being charitable.’ Church teaches us to give offerings, which are seemingly designated for the poor and more needy. Charity has been embodied in most government states that have socialist welfare inklings to take from those with more and provide special services for those with less. This is charity. Charity is emerging around us, and begging us to live in its image. I think our shameful Christian roots have increased our awareness for the need of real charity. We are seeing a western civilization walking, for the first time, hand-in-hand with its Christian heritage and presenting ‘charity’ as an attainable virtue and major tenet of how to establish a more balanced contemporary culture.

Be Righteous

I mean, for God sakes - believe that you are here to do something. Believe that of all people you are here for a specific purpose —— you are here to accomplish something unique, and no one else. I mean, look at yourself. You are gifted with abilities. You can hear, you can see, you can smell, you can control all your limbs, you can process information. You are smart. You are social. You are so fortunate to have these things. You are so fortunate to have been born in a free and supportive nation where chasing dreams is encouraged. You are fortunate enough to be financially sound, and fortunate to be socially confident. In short, you are able — be righteous. believe that you are here to make a difference. And it will be so.

Bracelets

Linzi has asked me almost three times now, so I know she’s been thinking about it a lot. Each time it feels like she’s asking me for the first time, and, I get the feeling that I’m probably responding like it too, … but I can tell that tonight’s line of questioning must have been another attempt (second, third, maybe fourth?) because she seems to be dissatisfied with my answer, as if she’s heard it before. She shoots me a facial expression that seems to read, “well… that’s what you said last time.” So, like I said, she must be persisting with her interrogation, hoping that I provide a better (more honest?) answer, an answer to a most intriguing question to her (and maybe to others), “Is Aaron’s personality compromising because of some childhood absence?” (or something to that nature, I can only imagine). So, she asked me again (while Tad eagerly listened, as if they had both been talking about it earlier and were equally vested in my response):

Linzi Smith: So, Aaron, do you believe that whole bit about the bracelets?
A: What bracelet thing?
L: You know about how people who wear bracelets and the thing about childhood insecurities?
A: Smith, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.
L: Remember how the other night I told you how a group of us were talking about your bracelets on your wrists and Reid came in, overhearing the conversation, and said, “yeah, what’s with those things, is it because of some childhood insecurity or something?”
A: No, I don’t.
L: Well, he said it, and it got me thinking about it. You know, having things on your wrists … as if it’s making up for an absence of something. Do you think it could be true?
A: I mean, I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me. The connection. It doesn’t make sense.
Tad: You know, … you know, .. it’s like your bracelets are making up for some childhood loss… or some childhood memory.
A: I don’t understand what that would be. As if having things on your wrists will help remind you of them? Or somehow represent them? What would make you want to put things on your wrists?
L: It’s like your hoarding something …. hoarding it in order to make up for some childhood loss… or memory..
A: Smith, hoarding something? I don’t understand. Hoarding?
L: Yeah hoarding. Have you heard of that little girl in, .. wherever, .. and her father abused her and molested her, and because of this traumatic experience she would carry stuff with her ,… in her hands. .. wherever she went. And she would take things and put them under her bed. And she would hoard them, and had this huge pile under her bed and played with them one at a time…. she did this to make up for ..
A: Like..like… an absence of something? .. or to fill up some void? ..some space?…
T&L: Yeah!… (in unison).
L: exactly..
T: … to fill a void, right.
A: Interesting.
L: do you think it’s true?
A: I mean, I don’t know, I’d have to think about it. I doubt it.
L: hmmmm…..

the toughest question

Question to self:

What is your favorite sphere of existence: Camp or Ultimate?

In considering your answer, consider these questions:
* Who are you?
* For what are you striving?
* Where do you feel most challenged?
* Where are you most supported?
* Where are you most comfortable?
* Most uncomfortable?
* Which is most gratifying?
* Which is more exciting?
* Which is more respectable?
* Is there a difference in the dynamic of the people?
* Where does your heart lay?
* Is this a difficult choice?
* Which has most greatly influenced/affected you?
* Which could be sacrificed this summer?

A clean conspiracy

Do you think handsoap companies put something in the soap so that when you add water to wash your hands, the soapy-watery mixture turns slightly brownish-black?

This would seem to be a pretty advantageous move by the soap companies. I mean, think about it. Who would be so interested to think up or find out their little secret? And every time someone washes their hands with the soap, people would be thinkin’, “Man, this is some good soap. It seems to get my hands really clean with every use! I’m going to continue purchasing this product — and maybe recommend it to my friends.” And obsessive-compulsive customers would continue to be O-C and continue buying that particular soap — cuz it gets results (and if anything the brownish-black residue would perpetuate the self-fulfilling prophecy).

The commercial world can be crafty. We can never be too sure that soap companies around the globe are not outsmarting us as we speak (or wash). That, or my hands were just really dirty 5 minutes ago. …. I guess we’ll never know. (Insert: crescendoing suspensful-mystery music) - Bum, bummm bummmmm!

Ralph Waldo Emerson ...

… once said, “Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this planet.”

Now, one, why would ol’ RWE say something like this, and, two, why would someone go out of their way to tell me this quote?

A quick existential question

Throughout all of our daily choices, are we really choosing to live, or are we choosing to avoid death?

Y tambien, un otra pregunta:

Is it better to exist as a powerful light for a certain few, or to exist in a way that reaches more? —- even at the risk of not fulfilling that greater role?

Y finalmente,

I was on a banana plantation this weekend, and there are these runners who run over a thousand pounds of bananas from the fields to the factory. I firmly believe this one of the most physically demanding jobs in the world. Anyways, there was the man there who didn’t talk at all… he just busted his ass running these bananas… 6 days a week, for over 10 hours each day without a break greater than 5 minutes. A friend (well, more of an acquaintance) tells me that he doesn’t like to talk to people, and never does. So I began to wonder…

“what is it like to truly not like to talk to people?”

How Do Humans Age?

This sunday I was at JJ’s house when I got a little phone call on my little cell phone. I picked up, and lo and behold —- David Haushaulter! Astonished, I began talking. We conversed for a quite a while, and then, when we were about to part ways, we had one metaphysical discussion on the process of aging.

See, Haus is in this place where he is feeling older. And I’ve been there, and, in fact, am there right now. I’m not quite sure if were in the same spot (I would argue that were not), but one thing is for sure — we both are feeling removed from our former, younger selves, and feeling ‘older.’ But what does that mean? How do you quantify one’s feelings of being older? My mom, the other day, exclaimed that she loves her current age, and that she doesn’t feel any older at all. In comparison to what age I wondered. Throughout one’s life, how many times might one actually feel older?

You know how we measure dog years and humans years differently? Well, one human year is really 7 years for a dog (or something like that). And that seems to make perfectly good sense to everyone. But how do we know that one human year is really one earthly revolution around the sun (365 days)? What if humans don’t really age by years. What if a human year was measured differently? The psychological aspect of aging may be dependent on another spectrum. Maybe emotional maturity. Maybe feeling isolated from or feeling unable to relate to a younger crowd. Maybe finishing middle school, or getting your BA, or getting a promotion in your career job, or having a child, or being a grandparent, or having a close friend or family member pass away, etc. How then do we measure a human year?

I say, “by feeling older.”

Perhaps at some points a human year could be 12 years, or 12 months. Who knows how long the intervals could be betwen feeling older, and then feeling older again. You could go through vast psychological growth in a short amount of time (say, 6 months or so), or you may plateau for a while, and feel impervious to age for a decade (or more! how great!!). What is it then that makes us feel older? Is it pure, raw emotional growth. Is it the assimilation to horrible things or becoming colder or desensitized to trauma? This made me wonder how long a person could actually live (in congruence with this line of thinking). What do you think? — 10, 15, maybe 20 (human) years? Perhaps. It makes sense.

Think about how older people have gone through hard times. Those hard times can certainly catalytically propell you through extenstive (feelings of) growth. Or maybe you thought about all those unfortunate people who died at very young ages. Many (or most) of these people have gone through troubled times that may have caused them to reflect and transition through emotionally troubling and maturing experiences. This could very well have been the cause in their demise, the root of their rapid aging. Think about it. There’s always one of those 13 year old kids in your classroom or in your cabin that seems hella old. They may even be older than you, speaking in human years.

The way I see it, I’m probably around 4 or 5 human years old. I once felt really old in 5th grade. Again in 8th (when I was a cool, big tough 8th grader). Once while I was giving my commencement speech at high school graduation, and again at camp this summer. Now, I’m about to graduate from college in 5 months, and I feel it coming —- though I don’t quite feel any older. Who knows?

I don’t know, this is just a cool way that Haus and I viewed the aging process. It just puts the aging process as more of a pscyhological issue. And we all know psychology (and philosophy) is where it’s at. Ja-boo!

On Excitement...

Perhaps excitement is a projection. You never really know if others are happy, but if you are, the world is happy. When caught up in the feeling of excitement, you project it onto the world - it becomes a lens in which you see your surroundings. When you feel that excitement is all around you, or that you are a part of the excitement you are clearly not excited. You are not excitement. It is not pure. Rather, it surrounds you; you are removed from the feeling, left to onlook. Here is a case where excitement and you are distinctly different. Some may say that the excitement may exist without you. Does this mean you are replaceable or that you are not integral (to that excitement)? OR is it that those who are excited are excited today, or in this moment, because of excitement you brought to them at another point in time?

Love: thinking or feeling?

Try to think about thinking for one moment. For example… to look back, or
keep walking? When you think about it, you only have two decisions. If an
observer knows all the decisions, s/he can always expect the outcome. How
trite does that make all of our actions? Now, I can say, “what else could she
do but either look back to see if I’m still there or keep walking, and not
look back?” Now, emotions are enslaved to fall victim to our reasoning.
Reasoning puts a framework to our emotions in which our emotions must follow
suit, must remain within the parameters. I can say, “Ahh, she chose not
to look back. Interesting.” But what does that mean —- it means you were
removed from the emotion for a certain while. Enough to ask the question.
Passion - is not asking the questions. I’m asking questions. I must lack
passion. I’ve felt a small fragment of passion — bursts at the beginnings of
all relationships. But they dissipate over time… and we always hope to
resurge passion with lust. But lust is not passion. Lust is sexually
incompatible with passion. Passion is everything. A desire for everything.
It’s bigger. Is it attainable? I don’t know. We’re all striving for it,
right? Or at least that’s what I’m told. That’s what music tells me. Well
then, is the problem with me? Can I not ever feel it? I don’t know. Either
way, that can’t be tested by doing nothing? The only testable method for that
question is to reframe it. Reframe it to now read, “Is the problem with who I
meet? With who I’m feeling passion towards?” This is testable. This puts
you in multiple relationships. Having the question and believing the
hypothesis is what keeps us striving to be in relationships. So, then,
everyone married is either feeling passion, or has given up looking (and
settled with no passion, or allowing the one person to feel passion while the
other doesn’t - thus the non-passioned person is just maintaining the other
person’s passion; wether the other person knows or not - most likely not).
Everyone single, has either given up looking or has not found the passion.
The question you must ask yourself when your single, is if you’re willing to
get into a relationship again, and whether you’re willing to risk/maintain one
where only one person (one of the 2 parties involved) is feeling the passion
—- typically the other person… or if you would rather continue looking;
with the potential that you won’t even be able to recreate the passion (that
the other person had for you once before) that you’ve now lost. So you play
the odds game — you figure, you’re young enough, you’ll meet more people, you can’t really know anyways, so go on … live on the edge. Go searching again.
Or, perhaps, let chance take over again. Maybe you’ll meet someone that has
a flare of passion…a flare of mutual, compatible passion — and then you
will try to come to understand if it is
what-you-need/what-you-are-looking-for/enough-passion-to-get-by/bearable/toler
able/maintainable/effortless in ways that you can continue the relationship
for
another-day/a-while-longer/until-you-have-a-good-excuse-that-forces-you-to-leave/until-you-meet-someone-new/until-you-profess-that-you-don’t-‘love’-anymore/
until-you-break-things-off-with-an-excuse-that-she-doens’t-understand.
Thinking fucks shit up. But what if you know that, and all you want to do is
feel. Wouldn’t you want to be with someone that makes you feel all the time?
You already know how to think. Why would you want to keep doing what you know you can do? You like striving for goals, right? Tell me when I should stop
for this goal?

You already told me not to stop once… and I’ve tried. Look - we’re back
here again.