Last week, while exploring misanthropy, I stumbled across a logical circularity implying that if one harbors hate or resentment for all aspects or any aspect of humankind, those feelings must (and will) naturally reflect back on the individual; though when they are, many of us have become very adept at hiding them, (or hiding from them). As a part of Humanity, if I hate Humanity, I also hate me. Many would argue against this, saying that they are exempt from this responsibility because they lack the power or control to change or influence status quo. I see this reasoning as an excuse to go along with the numb comfort provided by those who do effectively exercise power and control. If a sufficient number of individuals rebelled against consumerism (for example), by moving from market-driven, desire-based purchasing habits, to more thoughtful, need-based purchasing habits, this aspect of Humankind would change for the better. So if an individual claims to see the evils of consumerism, and yet continues to enthusiastically participate because "one person won't make a difference," then that individual must also acknowledge their personal evil within that contributes to the larger evil without. This same reasoning could apply to any number of other destructive and/or degenerative large-scale iniquities including discrimination, politics (defined as "any struggle for power and control"), and bureaucracy. As a part of Humanity, I have a responsibility to Humanity. And as a voice---(granted, a small voice, but a voice nonetheless)---of and (more importantly) for Humanity, I have a responsibility to me; the individual.
These circularities have highlighted a glaring illogicality surrounding truthfulness. I have often asked the question of others, "Is it better to be nice? Or is it better to be truthful?" (I may have asked this in previous written thought; at this point, I do not remember.) It feels like most individuals believe it is better to be nice. When I am asked, I typically respond that, when the truthfulness has the potential to improve a situation or circumstance, I believe it better to be truthful. Then I also qualify my response with the acknowledgement that my truthfulness may be incorrect due to anything from bad or incomplete information to my own personal stupidity. This response is crafted to be nice. My truthful feeling is that it is always better to be truthful despite the possibility that I may be shut out because of my truthfulness. But when another disagrees, and when that other (for whatever reason) is more powerful, I sometimes cave and justify it by rationalizing that to truly make a difference I must choose to be subtle and agreeable and nice, thus avoiding the risk of being ignored, or excluded, or banished, or fired, or... So it appears that reality often dictates nice, (and I believe this is why most individuals respond that it is better to be nice), yet my mind also dictates truthfulness; and my mind won't shut up. The glaring illogicality that comes from this---(remember the glaring illogicality?)---is that my mind is truthful and opinionated about other individuals, but when I work to truthfully consider myself as an individual, then my mind decides to shut up.
As a part of the whole, what is true for the whole, is in some part, true for the part; and what is true for the part, is to some degree, true for the whole. And though truthfulness is a perception, and does not necessarily equate with truth, this logical circularity applies to it as well. I cannot simultaneously hold myself above the fray and be in the midst of the fray, and I cannot not be in the midst of the fray. Even a cloistered Monk is a part of Humanity, and as such, has a responsibility to Humanity.
At this point in my written thought, I could predictably expand on responsibility, but I have already done so Here and Here.
So I would like to explore how I may insert logic and consistency in my truthfulness to myself, about myself. The only real difference I see between my thoughts (surrounding truthfulness or otherwise) and another's is that my thoughts emanate from me, (or at least have that potential); whereas another's thoughts are of unknown origin, making them mysterious and untrustworthy, (unless, of course, they agree with me---sarcasm?!). But by applying logical circularity, I can also see that I truthfully cannot be certain of the origin of my thoughts, and therefore my mind, whether it is opinionated or circumspect, also cannot be trusted. This is a start, but I can hear my mind whispering encouragement to stay safely within the narrow confines of its well-lit hallways that lead to crowded rooms of like-minded opinions. So I need to find another way into its labyrinth of dark and dangerous echoes.
As an individual, I am no more necessary, and I am no less necessary, than any other individual.
I have said this before.
I have said this before.
Ideal: Having learned from the past, I live in the moment, for the future.
Distorted Echo: Having imagined the past, I stand rooted in the moment, as the future.
I have said this before.
It is all about me: times 7.4 billion.
I have said this before.
I typically, on a daily basis, contribute to ignorance, injustice, discrimination, politics, bureaucracy, inefficiency, consumerism, and unshakable certainty.
I work to combat large-scale iniquities by practicing truthfulness, uncertainty, skepticism, creative tension, and spirituality; I should work harder.
I have said this before.
God is not only alive and well, but in his (by some accounts) more than 320 million incarnations, (by scaling the history of Humanity to equate with a 70 year life span), he ranges in age between one week and six months old. Will God grow up? Or will God die in his crib?
If God is less than six months old, I am barely five hours old.
The pulsating contraction and expansion of liquid thought, flowing; racing the echoes for a chance to touch untouched chambers; to immerse, and to be immersed; to unlearn, and then to learn; to recklessly circle my center, on the edge; to distract and disarm with supercilious prolixity; to simultaneously be outside from within, and to be inside from without; to find a way to truthfulness, by losing the way to me.
While this flow of thought fractures my personal equilibrium, it also forces me to acknowledge my inconsequentiality, and it in turn forces my mind to express self-serving opinions in an effort to balance (what it considers as) these dark and dangerous echoes; to balance them with an overdose of self-confidence in order to escape the vertigo. Yet, while this balance sounds necessary, (and can, in the short term, be comforting), I find that the ground is often more stable, and the flow is often less buffeting, as a part of a whole than as a whole playing a part. This is most noticeably true when I am faced with overwhelming adversity. But it is perhaps most necessarily true when I am experiencing excessive good fortune. In other words, the greater the adversity, the greater the likelihood one will be left to stand alone; and the greater the good fortune, the greater the likelihood one will be expected to contribute as a part of the whole. Yet the individual instinct, in each case, is often exactly the opposite. And still, it goes deeper than simply responsibility and accountability. This enigma also speaks to credit and blame, and illustrates how both are exaggerated; (often, greatly exaggerated); thus the difference between "most noticeably true" (due to excessive blame and 'righteous' exclusion or expulsion), and "most necessarily true" (due to excessive credit and unwarranted esteem). In both sets of circumstance, it is better to locate stability as a part of a whole, remembering that "nice" is a tactic, and "truthfulness" is a philosophy.
This week, someone said to me, "You've got to be nice; you see these people everyday." I agreed with him. By agreeing with him, I was nice. He had power; and it was easier to be nice. I am making plans to revisit this topic and argue; when the time is right; when the power disparity is smaller. Nice is a tactic. Truthfulness is a philosophy.