hopelesshappiness.com

"This is a story about magic and where it goes and perhaps more importantly where it comes from and why, although it doesn't pretend to answer all or any of these questions.

It may, however, help to explain why Gandalf never got married and why Merlin was a man. Because this is also a story about sex, although probably not in the athletic, tumbling, count-the-legs-and-divide-by-two sense unless the characters get totally beyond the author's control. They might.

However, it is primarily a story about a world. Here it comes now. Watch closely, the special effects are quite expensive."

The paragraphs above are the opening words from Terry Pratchett's 1987 novel "Equal Rites." I have been meaning to---(good intentions, and all that)---read Terry Pratchett for some time now, but at the moment of this specific written thought, the only Terry Pratchett words I have read are those words from the passage above. It is a great beginning. And it feels like a springboard into some form of personal exploration. I have no clue where it will take me, but I am at the end of the board, the juices are flowing, and I can feel the springiness... Here I go! Look out!

Shall I jump feet-first into the middle of the sexual gymnastics math problem and consider the complications created by adding a one-legged man into the equation? Or, worse yet, how would we solve for x if we added a one legged man and a one-legged woman? Or should I first fly by and consider the origins and destinations of magic, and perhaps take a potshot at a wizard or two? Eventually, I most definitely (and most defiantly) want to explore out of control, and perhaps even defend, condone, and absolve a certain amount of impetuous recklessness. Or perhaps I need to first justify the extravagance and expense of the special effects which from where I sit appear way overdone but if I fly higher to gain a big picture worldview perhaps the distant fuzziness will aid in clarifying the necessity of such foolhardy, madcap luxury. Perhaps... Perhaps... Perhaps...

Blurred vision, lack of detail, and lack of definition, all to aid in clarity. This is where I shall begin. It sounds oxymoronic;---(is that a word?)---perhaps due to the high altitude and lack of oxygen necessary for one to convince oneself of their all-seeing, all-knowing powers of omniscience. (I know; redundant, but I must ensure I reach as many oxygen-starved brains as possible.) This omniscience---(the all-seeing, all-knowing part)---is an origin of some magic, and some of those who pull it off with consistency and aplomb are wizards. Some of the most powerful wizards can see into the future, (in our society) often in four-year increments. There are many wizards though who operate on cycles of varying times based on the ebb and flow of their powers. Some wizards are wizards-for-life thanks to the power being handed down from parents to children. And then there are those flash-in-the-pan wizards who create a bedazzling burst of loud, powerful, extravagant, expensive magic and then quickly disappear with their take, perhaps to reappear (or not) at a later time with more magic, for more profit. I believe all wizards to be of the "flash-in-the-pan" variety. Even a wizard-for-life is a flash-in-the-pan as seen by the eye-of-all-that-has-ever-existed. And as I explore, I recognize that perhaps this expanse of past-and-future forever-and-everness, that we fondly call time, is perhaps the greatest magic trick of... well... of all time. Yet, from where I sit, this most powerful of all magics is not wizard-work, but the simple day-to-day creations of hard-working, uncertain, skeptical individuals unable to see beyond the next question; (much less, four years into the future). Ain't that a kick in the head? Wizards are charlatans, and any individual who chooses to, can perform the greatest magic there is.

And where does all this magic go? I believe wizard-work magically disappears (often after a profit of some sort), and I believe (daily, sincere, productive) hard work magically travels to the future. Too succinct? Tough. It is how I see it.

So now I believe I will explore out of control. If you read the opening Pratchett quote carefully, you understand that fictional characters may escape the author's control, and as fictional characters they are essentially imaginative creations of the mind, or thoughts, thus doing minimal harm unless some crazy in the world translates these thoughts into actions, at which point I would argue that not only can you not censor thoughts, but also as a crazy the crazy was likely having their own thoughts that were possibly even more dangerous and out of control than the author's out of control thoughts, therefore the author's out of control thoughts may have served as a safer outlet for crazy than the original unfocused crazy thoughts of the actual crazy, leading me to also believe that I should allow my personal thoughts to rove randomly and rampantly in wild bands of hooligan thoughts through the dark midnights of my mind not only because this is more truthful and I believe otherwise would be delusional, but also because by doing so I may prevent (though I don't believe, for me, it is possible---but you never know) a DefCon 4 or 5 buildup of crazy; and besides I can no more control my thoughts than I can my dreams and nightmares, (though there are times when I can control my dreams, which is quite empowering), so why not let them ping crazily through my head to see which synapses light up and which go dark, and to help me make some sense of my search for whatever-it-is-I'm-searching-for. Out of control thoughts are great! Out of control actions and behaviors must be thought through carefully, which I guess actually makes them (at least somewhat) controlled. I believe potential for out of control actions and behaviors resides only in the moment, without thought, because it requires thought to define the last moment or to plan the next moment, so an event such as the sexual gymnastics previously described must consist of multiple thoughtless moments strung together, but since in this case these are merely thoughts posing as fictional characters, if I were to insert myself---(poor choice of words)---into such a circumstance, I will have done so thoughtfully, and having thought about it I believe I will not find myself in such a circumstance, but if I do, I believe I would prefer a vantage point on high as a lookout for the one-legged man and/or the one-legged woman who could skew the results. After all, we can't have skewed results.

And that, my Friends, is the point that ties it all together. We must somehow figure out how to take a worldview that excludes skewed results; which from where I sit means, when I consider my worldview, I must exclude wizard-thought and wizard-work, and I must encourage out of control thoughts because of their potential to connect with and expedite productive hard-work, and I must believe in the magic of time travel, and I must fly low enough so I am able to account for the one-legged peoples of this world.

It was a very springy board. Thank you Pratchett!

I have 3 topics heavily impacting my thought this week; each prompted by 3 completely unrelated sets of circumstance:

1. Suffering;
2. Disappointment; and
3. Exploitation.

So far in this Life, I have often found the emotional suffering of seeing someone close to me suffer, to be far more intense than any physical suffering experienced myself. Many would agree that the feelings of helplessness associated with this secondary suffering are such that you would willingly trade places. But would this be a loving sacrifice? Or would it be a gesture of self-aggrandizing exaltation? To determine where, along this spectrum, one's intentions lie would require an objective determination of a) sincerity, b) individual perceived differences in the intensity of respective suffering as circumstance is reversed, and perhaps c) the magnitude of the sacrifice as compared to the magnitude of the resultant increase in power; (because with martyrdom does come a certain amount of power). Though this is a thought experiment, and I realize that one cannot, in most instances, actually, physically or emotionally, trade places, I do remember how a recent, personal hospital stay of my own upset my daughter, so perhaps I should give some thought to the possibility that my desire to trade places with her this week is selfish. Perhaps her feelings of helplessness were equally as (or more) intense three months ago than what I feel this week. Perhaps I need to be strong for her, from here.

Last week I was asked by a friend to read her recently-finished, first-draft novel she had written as part of her Master's Program. I was flattered to be asked. She made me promise truthfulness. And being truthful, it was an enjoyable read. And also being truthful, I foresee some disappointment. I have experienced emotional attachment with personal creative effort, and I have experienced disappointment when a valued opinion of another is at odds with my own opinion that has perhaps been made murky by cross-eyed infatuation. In this case, it truthfully was an enjoyable read, but there are some gaps and some distractions. I believe that to help, I should truthfully point out the gaps and distractions without filling or correction. I have some filler suggestions, but it is her story and must remain so. I must refrain from filling gaps. And as for corrections, some general housekeeping, (from a copyedit perspective), I believe would be appropriate, but the detail (in this context of a Master's Program) should probably be left to her. I cannot say with any degree of certainty what would be best for her story, but since asked, I can be, and I will be, truthful about the gaps and distractions.

There are many days I feel as if I am a mere conduit for others; a contrivance to assist another to move from point A to point B; a means to an end. Of late, in one particular setting/circumstance, it has become rare to feel as if I am respected; autonomous; an end unto itself. As I consider the flow reversed though, I also see that in many of my transactions with others, I too am often inclined to utilize another as a stepping stone. So if this is a common practice, at what point does one cross the line from a mutually agreed-upon transaction to exploitation. I have some thoughts. Nearly two years ago, (in the post "Devaluing Happiness"), I differentiated between market transactions and their related currencies, and human transactions and their related currencies. I believe any market transaction utilizing market currencies (including money, power, influence, and/or a claim for the greater good), but posing as a human transaction is an attempt at exploitation. I believe when the quantity or frequency or depth of market currencies noticeably outweigh the layers of human currencies (including trust, compassion, understanding, responsibility, respect, goodwill, emotional interaction, and productive two-way communication), yet an individual or organization claims a human transaction, the line has been crossed. Of late, in one particular setting/circumstance, this pretentious falsity of presenting a market transaction as a human transaction has crossed the line into exploitation.

It is an interesting convergence of thought. To share that one is in the midst of suffering, disappointment, and exploitation would very possibly elicit empathy and/or sympathy from some, yet to look closely it is likely that each one of us is experiencing some degree of each in some specific circumstance in any given week; perhaps not as sharply defined as this week, but nonetheless... And yes, at this point in my written thought, I could, (and I guess I will), repeat oft-stated beliefs that to examine and even embrace adversity will lead to learning and growth, whereas to ignore or deny the consistent existence of adversity will lead to a delusional, (though possibly comfortable), stagnation and ignorance.

So...

In addition to being a reminder, this week's convergence of thought has also led me to recognize, (or at least consider the possibility), that:

1. I am more likely to aid another in the alleviation of their suffering by taking ownership of and remaining strong in my own suffering; and also by offering meaningful words of comfort, and (perhaps most importantly) thoughtful acts of service.
2. Each lifetime, each week, each day, and each moment will contain gaps and distractions, and (when asked) I should truthfully assist another in identifying those gaps and distractions; but I should not become a co-author.
3. When I am told that a human transaction minus human currencies plus market currencies remains equal to a human transaction, I should double check the math; and if I determine that the market currencies are greater than the human currencies, I should correct the math and share my equation. But if it is a circumstance not conducive to sharing or if I am unable to encourage subtraction of market currencies and/or addition of human currencies on the other side, I should recognize the exploitation and work toward a more equitable equation by adding market currencies and/or subtracting human currencies on my side. From experience, I have found that (unfortunately), as I add market currency and/or subtract human currency, eventually the equation will come to a sum of zero.

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

I have come to the end of this week. My daughter is improving, I am delivering (and feeling some personal backlash of) disappointment on Tuesday, and I will do my damnedest to avoid a zero sum equation. Overall, it has been a productive week.

Again this week, I have been put in my place. Last week I encouraged finding one's place, yet ultimately determined that my place is here, now. It's all a bit enigmatic. Do I even have a place to find? If so, can I consistently find it? If not, why do I feel compelled to search? And if or when I believe I have found a place, why do I feel compelled to search for a better place. And why are there some individuals who insist upon aiding others in finding their place? Even (some times) when it does not appear to be their place to do so?

Last week I also said that it was up to the individual to "choose and create, or at least define your own meaning and purpose." I believe the "or at least" caveat was a nod toward circumstance that may dictate one's place, thereby narrowing one's choices. If I am put in my place by circumstance or by others, then is that truly my place? Or am I just passing through? If this dictated place becomes more long-term than I would like, will my definition evolve into delusion? Or will I be able to reach beyond this place into another, more suitable place? Can I occupy multiple places simultaneously? Or will each moment allow only one place in that moment? And what is the relationship between meaning/purpose and my place? I can think of examples in both directions, but which should come first? Does purpose create place? Or does place create purpose? My initial thought is that while both are certainly possible realities, place more easily influences purpose, so we often allow exactly that. But can one grow one's purpose to ultimately wrest control from place, regardless of how one has come to that place?

Finally, last week I also touched on "finding myself" and indicated that I was still looking. Is the perception that I am still looking for myself a result of my compulsion to search? And is this compulsion to search a result of a self-imposed delusional belief in myself? Is one's concept of self a product of place and perceived purpose? And if so, which weighs more heavily in that consideration - place or perceived purpose? And how do I trust my take on the truth of reality? When I feel that I have been put in my place---when I feel small and unimportant and patronized---is this in actuality more truthful and closer to reality than my personal belief or delusion? Is my place more accurately determined by the majority opinion of others? Do I even, really have a say in my place? Or should I disregard place and focus on growing personal purpose and meaning?

I will find myself in whatever place I may be, so perhaps this last thought---(to grow personal purpose and meaning)---will ultimately bring me closer to myself, than will jockeying for position and/or fighting circumstance for a more suitable place. Perhaps I meant "finding your place" to be synonymous (or at least congruent) with "growing personal purpose and meaning." Perhaps we (as a culture) are misguided by the pretentious prestige of place and position. So does this struggle between place and purpose, in order to find oneself, deserve further consideration? Or is it enough said that one can find personal purpose and meaning, regardless of place? In theory, perhaps it is enough. But it may be a hard sell to the homeless man on the street; or the single Mom who just lost a job; or the recent victim of a violent crime; or anyone in an abusive relationship; or even, simply, the citizen swallowed up, lost, and forgotten in the gelatinous gullet of mass bureaucracy.

So where do we focus? Do we focus on debunking place and position? Or do we focus on elevating purpose and meaning? I suppose I will begin with both. Place/position appears to be a consensus activity whereas purpose/meaning feels like it should be a solitary endeavor. To allow a consensus determination of one's purpose feels cheap and easy. Is this an indication then that the power-consensus of place and position is wanton and corrupt? Am I willing to demean myself in search of a more suitable place?---(I can recall a few personal examples of slatternly behavior to this end.)---And is this consistent with my purpose? I see that it is consistent if my primary purpose has simply become to seek and obtain a more prestigious place or position. There are cynics that might say since I no longer have the power to reach beyond my place, it is only natural that I would fall back to a defense of purpose over place; and it is a valid point. I would argue though that I once experienced some (big-fish-very-small-pond) power and prestige, and now in recent years circumstance has dictated my place to be otherwise; so I may have a more balanced, objective perspective from which to argue purpose over place.

To further this argument of purpose over place, I would also point out that in recent years, from my prescribed place, I have learned more, I have grown more, I have become more adaptable and more eager for change, I have significantly intensified my compulsion to search, and I have actively broadened my search for purpose and meaning. Additionally though, I have become more serious, more solitary, and more surly. I believe it to be a necessary trade-off, but one that is difficult to make, voluntarily, from a position of comfort. In fairness, as opposed to being encouraged by a fall from a place/position of some power or prestige, it may be equally (or more) difficult to climb or grow into a perspective of purpose over place if one has (over a lifetime) become settled into a peer-sanctioned, regimented peninsula of place over purpose.

Food for thought...

"I will miss you."

"Thank you. I believe you will."

"I will."

"That makes me smile."

"Who will I talk to when I want to talk to you?"

"I won't be gone."

"You won't be here."

"No. But... think for a moment of your favorite film; or book passage; or piece of music; one that, when you're alone, brings tears."

"Okay."

"When it is over, and you are sitting by yourself, what do you hear?"

"Nothing?"

"What else?"

"Silence?"

"What else?"

"An echo."

"Go on."

"In my head. It reverberates. I remember."

"And then?"

"And then, I cry a little more. And then I smile. And then I get up and I move on."

"When I am gone, that's how you will talk to me. I will be there... in the echo."

"How will I hear what you are saying?"

"You'll have to listen closely. You'll feel the reverberation."

"I'm afraid."

"I am too."

"Are you afraid of dying?"

"Of course. Part of me."

"What else?"

"What else am I afraid of?"

"Yes."

"Inconsequentiality."

"How do you overcome that?"

"Some days I don't. But I can remind myself that I believe I am part of the whole, and in that big picture, no single individual is any more or any less necessary than any other individual."

"I like that thought. What else?"

"I am afraid of my anger."

"Why?"

"Because even though it can serve as a springboard to action, it can also impair my ability to reason."

"Which is more important?"

"Between action and reason?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"What else are you afraid of?"

"I used to be afraid of not knowing."

"What changed?"

"I realized there are many, many things I will never know. To be afraid of not knowing seems a waste of energy. So instead, now I'm afraid of people who pretend to know."

"Why?"

"Because maybe they're not pretending."

"What else?"

"I'm afraid it's too late."

"Too late for what."

"Not for what---for who?"

"Then, for who?"

"For us."

"For me and you?"

"No... for humanity."

"Why? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know. ...The future."

"What can I do?"

"Find your place."

"How do I do that?"

"You have to figure that out. I believe you have to choose and create, or at least define your own meaning and purpose."

"What did you do?"

"To find myself?"

"Yes."

"Truthfully, I am still looking. But most consistently, I have worked hard."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I have always searched for answers; and as I've gotten older, I have asked more and more questions."

"Did you find answers?"

"Yes... ...No. Mostly of late, I have just found more questions."

"So you are still looking for answers and for yourself, but did you find your place?"

"Yes. I am here with you."

"I mean, in the world."

"Now... Here... With you... This is the world."

"What will you miss?"

"You."

"Besides me; besides people."

"Music. And books. And coffee shops. And walking... ...especially walking to coffee shops. And Beauty. Maybe, mostly Beauty."

"There's lots of Beauty. But I see lots of ugliness too."

"That's okay. The ugliness makes the Beauty more striking; and more meaningful."

"Yes. I see that. I think you mean that we need opposites for balance; right?"

"I think so. Yes. If we were only comfortable; or if we always thought everything was Perfect; I think that would be boring. I can't avoid pain; so I choose to embrace it when it comes, and maybe I can learn from it. Some people try to ignore it."

"What have you learned from pain?"

"That it's okay to make mistakes."

"What else?"

"That sometimes I prefer pain. For example, the pain and difficulty of truthfulness, over the comfort of pretentious courtesy."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I've been saving that one."

"So, why?"

?"Why do I prefer truthfulness?"

"Yes."

"Because I believe it has more potential."

"Potential for what?"

"For productivity. For learning and growth. For building relationships; and discouraging divisiveness."

"But what if I don't agree? What if your truthfulness creates problems? Or causes divisiveness?"

"It could. That's when we negotiate. Or I can fall back to being nice."

"Do you ever just stop speaking to someone if negotiation doesn't work?"

"First, if I don't let my anger drive me away, I'll try just being nice. But yes; sometimes people fall away. And depending on how important they are to me, sometimes I let them."

"I think I see. By being nice, you can hang on and maybe negotiate later."

"Yes. There is that. But also, I could be wrong. And if I see that I'm wrong, then the negotiation could turn toward their truth."

"So if each one of us can have our own truth, how do we ever find an actual Truth?"

"I don't believe we can. Today's truth is a matter of negotiation. Tomorrow's truth will be a different negotiation with a different outcome. My truthfulness is different from upper-case Truth in that my truthfulness is only a reflection of what I think; or believe; and then sometimes I verbalize and/or act upon it."

"And it changes."

"Yes. Often from one moment to the next. I am in constant negotiation with myself."

"That sounds wearing."

"Yes. It is. But it can also be rewarding."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just decide and know?"

"Yes. It would."

"But you say you could be wrong."

"True."

"So how do you know?"

"I don't."

"Okay. I think you're saying that uncertainty is important."

"In a sense, yes. I believe uncertainty is reality, and I believe reality is uncertain. But you have to decide for yourself; because again, I could be wrong."

"So much uncertainty... it's discouraging."

"But I'm not saying we "are" wrong. I'm just saying we have to allow for that possibility. If we don't, we may stop asking questions; and we may stop searching; and then we may stop learning. That, for me, is more discouraging."

"So there is hope?"

"I believe there is."

"Where?"

"In the echo."

"I'm still afraid."

"I am too."

"I Love You."

"I Love You too."

Terry Eagleton, in his newest book "Hope without Optimism" says, "A future that could be adequately captured in the language of the present would be too complicit with the status quo, and so would scarcely count as a genuine future at all."

I agree.

Last week I said, "the status quo is obsolete."

But to move beyond the status quo, one must look to the future; yet one can only do so in the present moment---with "the language of the present." Regardless, we cannot help but to continue to look to the future. As I consider this quandary of how to consider the future in the present, I see the window that we look through to be one of either hope or despair. This is the same window. And we all have the same view; one of uncertainty. Hope or despair depends upon individual perspective and interpretation. You may see a glorious panorama; I may see a dark wood. You may see sunshine and flowers; I may see clouds and rough terrain. You may see the surface serenity of a placid lake; I may see the cold turmoil of a monstrous depth. You may see endless possibility; I may see the edge of an abyss. You may see the warmth of welcoming crowds; I may see the solitude of a lonely path. You may see safety in numbers; I may see the desolate challenge of endless possibility.

If one sees hope through this window, their hope can further be differentiated as active or passive.

In "this post" in September I characterized "active hope" as an expenditure of "thoughtfully persistent effort for progressively higher Truths."

In that same post in September I characterized "passive hope" as any unquestioning belief that will "sentence oneself to a Life of lazy, trite security for some measure of comfort."

Despair can also be differentiated as active or passive, differing from hope in that passive despair will sentence one to a Life of docile, vexatious insecurity leading to chronic discomfort.

I would characterize one side of active despair as having the potential to encourage an expenditure of "thoughtfully persistent effort for progressively higher Truths."

But active despair may also turn dark; and ugly.

So one must focus, expending effort, to ensure that active despair, like active hope, will lead one to see a potential for possibility. Some would say that this mode of despair is more realistic. Others would say that hope is more productively beneficial. I would say the more significant distinction is one's choice of active or passive.

Typically, most would agree that one's hope or despair is future oriented. I would argue that passive hope and passive despair are situated firmly in the present, perhaps looking toward the future, but from a sitting position, waiting for it to come to them.

Regardless, because hope and the future are so intimately intertwined, just as I cannot know the future, I also cannot know the ultimate manifestation of genuine hope. If I am able to lucidly explain my ultimate hope or hopes for all of humanity, with any amount of certainty and/or conviction, I am likely practicing passive hope.

And in this same vein, just because despair and the future are so intimately intertwined, does not mean that I cannot know the ultimate manifestation of genuine despair. If I put forth the effort to lucidly explain my personal hopelessness and despair to another, with painful sincerity, I am practicing active despair; which may lead to active hope.

To succumb to silence is to risk knowing the ultimate manifestation of genuine despair. To succumb to silence, is not "active." But to act on silent despair may become dark; and ugly; and dangerous.

Last week I determined that I must loudly build creative, constructive tension. This week I have reinforced the necessity of vocal action to prompt thoughtful confrontation, negotiation, and growth. This week I have, (more poignantly than I can remember having done so before), seen the danger in silent despair.