This week I am working at sorting through my responsibilities; some of which are always at odds, and some of which have recently progressed to drawing up battle plans.

Is a personal responsibility a burden of obligation? Or is it an opportunity for reasoned growth? Perhaps it is (or should be) both.

Digging deeper, what is the difference between a 'responsibility for' and a 'responsibility to'? ... ... After some thought, I see 'a responsibility for' as involving ownership and control, whereas 'a responsibility to' would suggest the necessity of volitional action. And perhaps herein lies the conflict. Perhaps I should let go of feelings of ownership, and perhaps I should actively acknowledge the reality that control is elusive and (often) illusive. And by letting go, perhaps I can more freely focus on actions that (based on the virtue of my willingness to act) are less burdensome - actions that will advance reasoned growth.

When I first drew up the list below, (prior to the thought above), I included 'my wife and children' and 'my extended family' at the top of the list. I see now that I cannot be completely responsible 'for' another individual, but I can be responsible 'to' others through the willing actions listed below; (and I believe by working hard at these obligations, the potential influence will be greatest on those closest to me).

I have a responsibility...

• to actively care for my physical health;
• to perpetuate lifelong learning;
• to contribute productively;
• to grow spiritually;
• to question everything;
• to compassionately listen for understanding;
• to be truthful;
• to maintain a sense of humor;
• to minimize harm;
• to seek personal, familial, communal, global, and universal reconciliation.

Though I feel that (with an active awareness of the avaricious overindulgence of ownership and control) I can reduce the potential for conflict, I still have a list that has considerable potential for contentious contradiction.

These days I struggle mightily working at a balance of truthfulness and minimal harm; and I do so on many different fronts. In this struggle, according to the circumstance, I will predict the likelihood of my truthfulness being heard and understood vs. the likelihood of a greater harm, and I temper this calculation with the acknowledgement that not only is my truthfulness not a Perfect Truth, but my truthfulness (in the spirit of 'question everything') is (though truthful and confident) still inherently rife with uncertainties and doubts.

These days I struggle working at a balance of physical health and productive contribution. I have physical limitations that I work at compensating for with an effort toward serious study and lifelong learning, translated into weekly written thought. It has been observed (by myself and others) that this degree of determined focus and absorption at times results in excess stress, which in turn may impact physical health.

These days I struggle working at a balance of humor and responsibility. I take all responsibility (including my responsibility to maintain a sense of humor) seriously. To interject humor is to lubricate the gears, thus reducing the friction as I work at balancing personal responsibilities. These days I have failed to consistently interject humor as I should.

Every day I struggle working at a balance of spiritual growth and skepticism. Jules Verne said, "Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth." The same might be said for religion; but in order to advance toward spiritual Truth, one must first acknowledge the possibility of mistakes, and next acknowledge the unattainability of a Perfect Spiritual Truth. Many who claim a certainty in faith will not allow for the possibility of mistakes. Certainty in faith is a contradiction of terms. Organized religion (for me) implies indoctrination and requires a passive acceptance. Every day I work hard at questioning every thing, thereby continuously pushing spiritual comfort just out of reach. Spiritual comfort is the primary marketing strategy for organized religion. Spirituality without religion is possible; it is also more difficult, more painful, more lonely, more truthful, and (I believe, potentially) more rewarding.

These days I struggle working at a balance of lifelong learning and compassion. The more I learn (in the areas I choose to study), the higher the levels of frustration and the less the likelihood of compassionate understanding. These days I believe this to be my most urgent area of contention. While not antisocial, these days I have become more withdrawn and more adversarial.

The previously-mentioned struggle between truthfulness and minimal harm also plays into this urgent struggle between learning and compassion. One year ago in the post 'Free-Floating Happiness' I made a case for compassion. I have frequently championed truthfulness, lifelong learning, and minimal harm. But as I have consistently thrown these four obligations into the same arena I have been victimized by internally-generated philosophical fisticuffs that have forced me into a corner now uncertain whether to attack with knowledge and truthfulness, cower in fear of doing harm, or (like a wise and benevolent wizard) hide behind a curtain of compassion. This last option is phrased as such because these days, that is how any outpouring of compassion feels.

Here is an example - a friend who has his two boys for the summer was very upset the other day because his ex called and said the boys wanted to cut their time with Dad short and fly back to the coast 2 or 3 weeks early. Living several hundred miles apart, he complained - (seemingly rightfully so) - that this was his only time with the boys and he did not want it cut short. Later that day he was inviting people for a 4th of July party and telling everyone he had "shipped" his boys off to his parent's for the weekend. Additionally, when asked how he was enjoying their visit, he was overheard to say 'he had to shut himself up in his room every night to get any peace and quiet.'

Aaaarrrrgghhhhh!

Do I attack with truthfulness? Do I cower silently, fearing that I might hurt his feelings and/or lose a party invite? Or do I hide in the folds of a false compassion expressing trite sympathies for his woes? I know... a more correct answer is that I should work at easing his suffering - (though I don't know that he realizes he is suffering) - by gently (perhaps humorously) chiding him for his contradictory actions and behaviors, and if he becomes defensive or belligerent I should back off and believe that what I have said has or will reach some part of him - lead with compassionate truthfulness, then work to minimize harm and maximize learning. Nonetheless,

...Aaaarrrrgghhhhh!

Depending on circumstance (who, where, what, when), it can be very difficult to prioritize one's obligations. I am not sure if I have experienced new learning this week, though I have solidified some past learning.  I have one more day...

... ... ... ... ...

Upon reflection, I believe differentiating 'responsibility for' and 'responsibility to' is a new (or at least uncommon) personal perspective, and I believe it has helped to lighten the load and simultaneously increase potential output.

... ... ... ... ...

In these past hours, I returned to the written thought above and added the content on humor. While certainly not new knowledge, it is renewed learning. While trying to remember at what point I had banished my sense of humor, it sent word back that I did not banish it; rather it had fled a cold and lonely darkness - me - to find refuge and survive as it could. My sense of humor has survived, and though malnourished and frail it has agreed to return. And I have agreed to increase the light and warmth necessary to nurse it back to health.

These days I am learning...