I was reading a while ago about the idea that all anyone really wants from life, in terms of one’s existence within a social perspective, is dignity: the knowledge that one is recognized as being of value as a person, not just a member of humankind but someone of intrinsic worth.
I wonder, as we look out upon the people, we see on the street going about their daily tasks: bus riders returning from work, clerks, administrators, colleagues, if we take the time to see them as what they are, if we recognize our common humanity, afford them dignity.
We all are, after all, strugglers, strivers, driven to seek a modicum of success that will provide a sense of security for us and our families. It’s good, I think, to realize sometimes everyone’s in need. Cooperation, compassion, and empathy are things we can all provide and receive.
I’ve been reading, lately about the vast numbers of American preparing for the Apocalypse. Some sources estimate as many as 10% of the US population harbors deep survivalist instincts informing them civilization is teetering, nearing collapse, and preparation need be made for surviving the end times.
Well maybe all these folks don’t foresee ‘End Times’ exactly, maybe the extravagant preparations being made: building bunkers that include gyms, pools, libraries and shooting ranges complete with moats skimmed with flammable liquid, is just a use of expendable income for an insurance policy that will ease the fear our tumultuous times are imposing. But, considering the political craziness that perpetuates an Us vs Them mentality, it’s not hard to imagine ‘The Four Horseman’ ushering in the demise of civilization and there’s plenty of literature that adds believable detail to what an apocalypse will look like.
Time to reread ‘A Canticle for Liebowitz’ offering, as it does, a light at the end of the civilization terminating tunnel in the person of a young child, maybe she’s a GenAlpha who will be able to correct some of our mistakes.
I’ve been thinking lately about the monumental impact the discoveries of Charles Darwin had on the religious communities of the early 20th century.
The early Christian conception of mankind as being created by God in his image were found to be in total contradiction to Darwin’s evolutionary theories. His discoveries of the evolutionary changes to finch populations on the Galapagos Islands as their habitat changed were irrefutable. Subsequent connections realized between humankind and simian populations exacerbated the matter. Christian revivalists preaching ‘Hellfire and Damnation’ condemned evolutionary thinking, creating fury among the conservative religious community.
Still an issue, I guess, for some, but morality as a uniquely human trait that spurs love of neighbor and awareness of a presence beyond the physical should ease the matter, although such understanding does require nuanced thinking.
I suspect most everyone raised in the western cultural tradition imagines, when God is mentioned, a bearded white guy in robes, he maybe hippie-ish and long-haired as well, Jesus being in mind.
Seems so trivial though, doesn’t it? Having to imagine such an image of a supreme intelligence, an over-seeing presence responsible for our very existence, to whom our brief life on this earth is responsible. A benign existence that offered itself in human form in order to better relate to its created beings.
Even a finite human intelligence must wrestle with such a trivial image if it is to be taken seriously. The problem, I guess, is in the difficulty of thinking in the abstract, of conjuring a presence that’s beyond words, language being an inadequate conveyer.
In the winter of his eighteenth year this young man fell madly in love (well, it was a serious crush anyway). The object of his unrequited affection was a demure sweet young lady who turned the young man, usually easygoing and affable, into a tongue-tied moron (or so he thought and was in fact true).
The episode was simply reflective of the young man’s nature. He conjured imaginings of romantic scenarios; of heroic stances he might take. He lived in a world of fictional narratives reinforced by the heroic storylines he regularly indulged: good triumphs, tragedy is overcome.
It would seem in retrospect such an imaginative reality would soon be repressed but it was maintained far longer than it might have been by avoiding unpleasant confrontation, keeping a distance from uncertain challenges and living in an (overly) protective home environment. As a college student our young dreamer immersed himself in studies of an impersonal nature, solitary endeavors not requiring excessive personal connections. He had friends of course. College life teems with unassuming young people of an accepting nature, all thriving in an essentially responsibility free environment.
Eventually, over time, even an impractical dreamer will have to face harsh realities. The awakening for our young man came with the threat posed by the draft lottery and the likelihood of involuntary military service. Basic training was eye opening. The young man found himself verbally assaulted. Name calling the likes of which he had never previously encountered (but guessed often referred to perverse sexual acts) was common.
Military service didn’t cure the young man, didn’t redirect him toward a more functional pragmatism. Even now as he passes middle age the man finds himself entertaining flights of fancy. He has somehow been able to navigate through life being sufficiently useful as not to be a particular burden on society, you know, has basically paid his own way.
It’s good to know, I guess, that sometimes life provides a path for those who need to live in an alternative reality.
I’ve been thinking lately about the multitudes of good and sincere people in the world who have arrived at dramatically conflicting views as to the nature of reality.
Most all of us rely on what we consider to be unimpeachable support sources for our views and usually a contingent of like-minded others that reinforce our beliefs. The evangelical Christian, the Qanon conspiracy buff and the liberal mainstreamer will tend to approach daily occurrences with sets of premises and then conclusions that are quite different. Such conflicting perspectives are the stuff of the social divisiveness manifesting itself these days; the dilemma of free thought in a free society free from coercive oversight, I guess.
I have no answers other than responding with patient tolerance in the knowledge that most everyone deserves respectful acknowledgement of their usually carefully considered views. The hope is that we can all spot disinformation when it presents itself. Hopefully, we can think past the response of the recently interviewed lady asked why she embraces her position on a current controversial idea. ‘I know it’s not true’, she said, ‘but it’s consistent with my beliefs.’
I’ve been reading about knowledge boundaries and the idea of island as metaphor. Within the island, our body of knowledge, we pursue lines of thought, traverse the island, and eventually reach the shore beyond which lies the unknowable. The island grows as the breadth of our knowledge increases, the shoreline expands, and we are confronted with more mysteries and incomprehensive considerations that, when the island was smaller, were beyond our wildest imaginings. I guess the idea is, the more we know the more we don’t know.
For those of us who are not inclined to add dilemmas to the one’s we already struggle with, perhaps limiting knowledge is a preferrable strategy. We gain the peace of unquestioning acceptance of things simply being the way they are as opposed to living the uncertainty of constantly seeking answers; the problem the chronically curious must deal with.
Maybe it doesn’t have to be either/or. I can appreciate peaceful contemplation and still entertain intermittent bouts of curiosity. I think, these days, my island is still slowly growing. I’m just not venturing to the beach as often as I used to.
I’ve been thinking about the George Orwell novel 1984, how the totalitarian regime in the book implemented catch phrases to secure the minds of the populace. ‘War is Peace’ is used to establish a permanent enemy, a scapegoat, that can be blamed for any and all ills that befall the citizenry. ‘Freedom is Slavery’ discourages individualism tribalism in order to keep everyone bound to the collective. ‘Ignorance is Strength’ encourages the subservient populace to forego intellectual reflection, follow the dictates of those in power, not think about things to hard and they will realize contented peace. The message is, I guess, that given such ideas along with sufficient deterrents a totalitarian regime turns people into sheep without them realizing it.
Sounds familiar, doesn’t it; we owe it to ourselves to step up, encourage opposition, reaffirm our freedoms and checks on excessive power. The democratic media voices critical commentary daily; let’s make sure we support it.
I have a friend who is a school administrator. Although he never complains, it’s apparent the pressures of the job are often trying. He told me once that the job requires him to wear different hats by which I assume he meant the need, sometimes, to act the policeman, other times to accommodate with a smile undeserved criticism, and so forth.
As I think about this, hat wearing, in fact, often carries meaning beyond its basic head-covering function. Political affiliations may be conveyed, products advertised, and humorous familial contexts presented. These presentations of identity along with the desired in-group associations the wearer wishes to convey may also carry an accompanying negative reaction that the hat wearer may not desire. Repulsion and hostility being real possibilities.
So, thinking about it, I intend to be careful what I put on my head.
Samantha Harvey tells the story of a crew of astronauts circling the earth in an international space station. Each crew member contemplates his or her existence with a new awareness, removed as they are from the 24 hour cycle of life one experiences on the planet surface. Circling the globe as many as fourteen times in an earth day, accompanied by fourteen sunrises and as many sunsets, the astronauts watch, god-like, as a cyclone forms above the Philippines. They each come in time to the profound realization their very existence is extremely fragile, dependent upon the celestial body they’re circling.
As they perform their assigned experiments and daily maintenance tasks, over-coming the space sickness and lack of sound sleep, they nevertheless marvel at the constantly changing color and light show they see as they hurdle, weightless behind and around the entity that sustains they’re existences.
Such a perspective must surely overshadow the petty power struggles that define life on planet Earth.
deideismusings 