hopelesshappiness.com

From seemingly nothing...

...to active hope.

Yet each day, I wake up hungry.

And most days I work hard to learn and I work hard to be productive.

Yet many days, I wake up ravenous.

Because many days I wake up to find that for each morsel of sustainable progress, the void expands by the equivalent of a heaping spoonful.

And some days I find myself holding the spoon.

But is it better to postulate futility and add nothing to this ...nothingness?

Or is it better to continue to build and scale a small tumulus of substance for a better view?

For nine years, I have consciously chosen the latter; and in the past five years, it has become habit.

Some days that "better" view inspires. Some days it overwhelms.

Some days I feel I am moving away from nothing. Some days it appears I am moving toward nothing.

Am I building something from nothing?

Am I building something for nothing?

Is my effort productive?

Or are my mounds of ostensible substance merely a ceremonial burial of my hopes?

I am more satisfied building and less satisfied viewing.

Is my level of satisfaction because building includes (the more active) doing, and viewing compels thought?

Because doing may include busywork, and thought may include contemplation?

Because busywork is specious, and contemplation may include an inner spirituality?

Because speciousness is of this World, and spirituality may transcend this World?

Because when I am building I can fill the gaps, and when I am spiritual I must leap the gaps.

Some of the gaps are wide and deep.

Standing at the edge of some gaps, I am unable to see the other side.

Perhaps the vast expanse of nothing is merely a very wide, very deep gap.

Perhaps I would prefer burying my hopes to losing them, failing to leap a gap.

But in a sense, regardless, I am filling the gaps.

Either with productive significance, or with the remains of my hopes.

...or perhaps with some of both.

It is necessary to build.

It is necessary to view; and think; and contemplate.

The alternative is hope without substance.

...the alternative is nothing.

But because it is necessary, and because the alternative is to add nothing to nothingness, does not mean that my substance is substantial.

...or productive.

...it only means that my substance is hopeful.

Each day, I wake up hungry.

Many days, I wake up ravenous.

...as it will be.

PART 1: Defining Moments

From the Moment of Birth to the Moment of Death, we undergo Indoctrination.

From the first Moment of Conscious Understanding to the Moment of Death, we undergo Education.

From the first Moment of Responsibility to the Moment of Death, we refine Expertise.

From the first Moment of Independent Thought to the Moment of Death, we refine Intuition.

From the first Moment of Independent Expression of Independent Thought to the Moment of Death, we refine Practical Vision.

From the first Moment of Power to the Moment of Death, we refine Comfort and Lethargy; and may (or may not) choose to build toward Tyranny.

From the first Moment of Uncertainty to the Moment of Death, we refine Creativity.

From the first Moment of Skepticism to the Moment of Death, we refine Artistic Vision.

From the first Moment of Doubt to the Moment of Death, we refine Tolerance.

From the first Moment of Independent Expression of Uncertainties, Skepticism, and/or Doubts to the Moment of Death, we refine Loving Vision; and may (or may not) choose to build toward Universal Compassion.

From the first Moment of Esoteric, Ineffable Transcendence to the Moment of Death, we refine dissatisfaction.

At the Moment of Death, I will know Perfection; or not.

PART 2: defining moments:

The Moment of Birth and the Moment of Death are finite and Definite.

To refine is to effect subtle change in thought; actively or unknowingly; (not necessarily productively).

The first Moment of Responsibility is that first moment in which we can control an emotion.

Vision implies Leadership; active or by example; (not necessarily productive).

Uncertainty, Skepticism, and Doubt are progressively stronger urges to question a status quo.

Uncertainty, Skepticism, and Doubt are progressively stronger urges to question my personal (physical, emotional, mindful, and spiritual) status quo.

A Moment of Transcendence, being Esoteric and Ineffable, is a barely conscious (or not) fleeting moment, hinting at Truth; and Perfection; and Happiness.

PART 3: refining moments

Some moments are inevitable; some are not.

One can choose to actively impact building and refinement; or not.

As they are added to one's Earthly Life, all moments, (with the exception of Death), immediately begin to commingle, jostling, dancing, bumping, and jockeying for position that may or may not build.

At the Moment of Death, there are no excuses.

This week I have lived in shadows...

In the shadows I remember the homeless man with one hand open and outstretched, and the other tightly grasping the neck of a brown paper bag.

In the shadows I remember the formation of words into sentences into paragraphs into chapters into a good read that falls somewhere between a pleasant productive escape and an indelibly influential, transcendent journey.

In the shadows I remember the simple smell of roasting garlic; the unexpected wave and the salt-spluttering exclamation of surprised joy; the dawning realization that "this" is not so serious.

In the shadows I remember the first hill from the first row of the first car and the anticipatory lurching of the climb inevitably followed by the palpitating thump of the sudden drop into apparent nothingness.

In the shadows I remember three c-sections; the freight-train roar of Hurricane Katrina; Christmas morning; a secret smile; the carefree squeals of my children as they were tossed in the air.

In the shadows I remember the juicy exuberance of the fresh-off-the-vine tomato contrasted by the stoic shaker of salt and the crisp sizzle of the midday sun on the back of my neck.

In the shadows I remember the uncontrollable spinning; the never-ending battle with consequential insignificance; the dawning realization that I don't know exactly what "this" is, yet still I am working to save the world.

In the shadows I remember the fiery, early-morning, pink-red-orange fingers reaching from below the horizon as if to wrest darkness from all corners.

In the shadows I remember poison ivy, chiggers, and a warm salt bath; the paddleboats, and the go carts; the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina; the unexpected laugh; broken bones and the prolific pain of futility; the magic of music.

In the shadows I remember the significance of tears; noise; the calming influence of lush greens and brilliant blues; the awe and amazement and utter coolness of lying awake, very still, and watching the monitor as the cardiologist implanted Stents #5, 6, and 7.

In the shadows I remember the formation of one step into another step into another step into a city block into a mile into a country mile into a five-mile illuminating meditative journey.

In the shadows I remember the dawning realization that "this" is serious; the simple smell of toasting almonds; the taste of friendly gumbo; the wealthy man with one hand open and outstretched, and the other tightly grasping my neck.

In the shadows I remember that shadows are shaped by light.

This past week I was told, "You are inconsequential." This declaration was followed by further confirmative action, and though initially I was angry, it disturbed me. It created a nagging discomfiture. I believe it did so because each one of us is inadequate and inconsequential in some way(s), and I do not feel I should be rejected or belittled for my humanity. Because I am ordinary, or even unskilled, in a specific circumstance, merely means that I am unfortunate; it does not mean that another is superior, all-powerful, or more deserving.

We live in a culture of conformity. To be singled out as "meaningless" in any regard, in the context of our busy routine, is bound to enflame emotions. Perhaps, it should not. Instead, perhaps, it should encourage one to more actively seek circumstance that has more potential for interdependent productivity.

I suppose some may say that this "Perhaps" is a rather deterministic outlook; (in that productivity is necessary, and reason is necessary for maximal productivity, and to be singled out is likely to disrupt reason). Others may see it as mature and responsible. Because I am discomfitted by undue disdain, and because I see most scorn as nonproductive, and because I work hard, (though often fail), to administer truthfulness productively, I suppose my equitable outlook is rather deterministic. I can live with that. I am free to choose, and my choice may even influence an outcome; but it will never stand alone.

For every moment spent reflecting on one's own personal meaninglessness, there are surrounding mega-multiple moments spent (by others) oblivious to the one's self-pity. And in this sense---from this perspective---it feels like a ridiculous waste of effort to feel meaningless. This is not to say that effort should not be expended on actively seeking circumstance that has more potential for interdependent productivity. And it is not to say that one will not be tempted by the siren song of anger. This week's thought is meant to encourage more efficient productivity, and to temper my inclination toward prolonged, nonproductive anger, and to look very hard at my inclination toward quick anger, with some realistic perspective.

The four paragraphs above have been a mirror of this previous post from July 9. I acknowledge that I am more deterministic, and more faithful to productivity, in my practice of and reaction to praise; and I am more personally active, and (too) often disrupt productivity, in my reaction to rejection or disdain. I work hard to not practice rejection or disdain, but, (as acknowledged above), to temper my truthfulness so it is not mistaken for disdain is a challenge because I am quick to anger, overly-critical, slow to praise, and slow to let go.

One week I was praised. Another week I was rejected. One week I chose to be faithful to the necessity of productivity. Another week I chose to be emotional and I was derailed. So am I actually contrasting the productivity of determinism and the nonproductivity of free will? Interesting question. But I think not. I think it is more a contrast of the productivity and nonproductivity of (respectively) mind and ego; or reason and emotion; or compassion and condemnation; or Goodness and Pride; or justice and political power; or, (perhaps most accurately), us and me.

(Reminder: "Political Power" implies a disagreement followed by a struggle for power. In many cases, including this past week's personal inconsequentiality, the struggle is short-lived, sometimes to the point where the victor is not even aware a struggle took place.)

So for now, as difficult as it is, I must choose the productivity of mind, reason, compassion, Goodness, and us, and let go of justice; because those with the political power have chosen ego, emotion, condemnation, Pride, and NOT Us.

Mind you, I am choosing productivity. I am not choosing agreement, endorsement, or even the nonsensical concept of forgiveness; (nonsensical mainly because those with the political power are not only NOT asking for forgiveness, but also oblivious to its potential suitability to this occasion).

I can and I will be more productive by letting go. So now I must stop writing because I need both hands to pry the suctioned tentacles of anger from around my thoughts...

Once upon a time. Not so long ago. In a land. Not so far away...

There were sick people. People who were sick, (sometimes but not always), (and to some degree but not completely), due to circumstance beyond their control. People who were living from one week to the next, uncertain if there would be a next. People who were in pain, not just due to their illness, but also in part, due to the anxieties created by their illness. People who were labeled as unfit for civilized society. People who were dubious and/or afraid of the process of getting better and fitting in; being herded like cattle; with no consideration for their individuality; with disdain; and in some cases, with contempt. People who found it very difficult to be at all actively hopeful.

But then, a ruler, (considered wise, just, and benevolent in his self-proclaimed ability to see, interpret, and take action on the BIG PICTURE), came into power. This new ruler made many proclamations... Including a mandate requiring "all illness be treated with reasonable care" not to exceed any of the multitude of limitations put in place by the appointed administrators of the BIG PICTURE. Including an edict prohibiting unreasonably frequent care and encouraging provider penalties as one came closer to stated limits. Including a decree that those with multiple health challenges, (because of the edict on frequency of care), may at times, for some afflictions, be officiously denied care. Including a declarative rallying cry that because many and most do not take undue advantage, we must all be super-diligent in identifying and labeling those who do; (and those who appear to). And including a justification that these reasonable directives will make a whopping dent of a 1.3 percent reduction in this great land's debt.

As time went on, more and more people fell victim to this illness. In part due to the increasingly virulent nature of the disease, and in part simply due to the fact that there were more and more people. Yet the stigma remained; and in an effort to accommodate more and more people, the rules became more and more complex; and less and less forgiving.

The people knew the disease was contagious. Many ignored the danger. The people hoped for a hero. Many sat on their hands and hoped. A few searched for a hero; but many of these, had little experience, low standards, and were looking in the wrong places. There was no hero to be found.

With no hero, and with no cure in sight, the sick people began to shrivel. With dwindling substance, the sick people began to disappear. As the sick people became less noticeable, the sickness also began to disappear. As the sickness became less noticeable, the stigma began to disappear. As the stigma became less noticeable in the increasing numbers of dwindling sick people, the sick people also took note of the less noticeable illness, and soon the sick people also believed that the sickness had begun to disappear. Eventually, the sickness appeared to disappear completely, and the (largest-ever-number-of) dwindling people unanimously rejoiced.

Upon believing they were cured, the people looked to give credit. Many gave credit to the self-proclaimed, wise and benevolent ruler and his self-important minions. This gave rise to additional layers of self-important minions and additional strands of rules. As these sticky complexities became thicker and more complex, the people also appeared to puff up and become more substantial. At first, it was only the self who recognized the additional substance within and around their self. But as time went on, others began to notice more substantial others. As the ever-larger numbers of formerly sick people appeared to add substance to their formerly dwindling selves, and as others began to notice others, they again, unanimously rejoiced. And each day, as time went on, the people awoke more and more puffed up, and each day, as time went on, they again, unanimously rejoiced. And each day, as time went on, they believed that each day would be more puffed up than the last. And they rejoiced.

Then one day, the people awoke; and, with a tickle in the back of their thoughts, they looked again; more closely; for a moment; and then they were reassured by others; and they looked again; and then they reassured their self. Yes! They were indeed more puffed up today, than yesterday. And they rejoiced.

Then one day, the people awoke; and, with a slight uneasiness in the back of their thoughts, they looked again; more closely; for a moment; and then they were reassured by others; and they looked again; and then they reassured their self. Yes! They were indeed more puffed up today, than yesterday. And they rejoiced.

Then one day, the people awoke...