hopelesshappiness.com

Am I a traitor?

...I am working very hard to be.

Friedrich Nietzsche (in "Beyond Good and Evil") made the observations quoted below speaking specifically of a philosopher. Today I believe that all individuals are capable of thoughtful, passionate searching, and I issue it here as a challenge that each of us work toward these ideals as put forth by Nietzsche more than 125 years ago. I see signs every day that we (as the whole of humanity) are moving in this direction:

"...[The philosopher] must perhaps have been critic and skeptic and dogmatist and historian and, in addition, poet and collector and traveler and reader of riddles and moralist and seer and 'free spirit' and practically everything, so as to traverse the whole range of human values and value-feelings and be able to gaze from the heights into every distance, from the depths into every height, from the nook-and-corner into every broad expanse with manifold eyes and a manifold conscience...

...The philosopher, being of necessity a man of tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, has always found himself, and had to find himself, in contradiction to today: his enemy was ever the ideal of today. So far all these extraordinary furtherers of man whom one calls philosophers, though they themselves have rarely felt like friends of wisdom but rather disagreeable fools and dangerous question marks, have found their task, their hard, unwanted, inescapable task, but eventually also the greatness of their task, in being the bad conscience of their time."

I must work hard to betray 'today'. It is my responsibility, to myself and to others, to sow discomfort, and water and nourish dissatisfaction, in order to reap meaningful progress. How do I go about this task?

First I must remove myself from the consensus. I must find a suitable position opposite (or in opposition to) the consensus, stake my claim, get to know my like-minded neighbors already in this place, and work to convert other thoughtful, passionate explorers to visit and perhaps put down stakes of their own.

Once I have established myself in this place, I must pack a knapsack with my thoughts and other necessities and begin circling the original consensus, searching for other perspectives to which I may want to claim in part or in whole as additions to my first domicile of opposition.

If I am thorough I will completely circle the original consensus likely finding a variety of both suitable and unsuitable encampments and/or additions. It is important for me to examine this circular spectrum of opposition to work at understanding as many varying possibilities as I am able to locate and reach.

It is possible that before I have completed my 360 degree journey, the original consensus will shift. If it shifts into my neighborhood I must pull up stakes and find a new neighborhood in opposition to this new consensus. If it shifts in a different direction I must pull up stakes, visit and explore the new consensus, then find a new encampment (which could possibly be my old encampment) suitable for once again establishing a domicile. I must then again shoulder my thoughts and necessities and begin a new journey circling this new consensus.

A vagabond is often judged to be a disreputable troublemaker. Today, the general consensus is that one should be settled and certain in both thought and deed. And many of us choose to settle in another's certainty. But even that individual who puts forth more effort by choosing to face uncertainty, see possibilities, create meaning and purpose, and secure some degree of agreement and consensus, has not completed the challenge put forth unless they choose to then pull up stakes and start again with uncertainty. The only way to reap meaningful progress is to embark upon this never-ending, ever-evolving quest again, and again, and again, and again, and again...

Upon reviewing this week's written thought, I see that some may argue the compatibility of thoughtful passion. How can one reason with a burning desire? For me it is not a question that offers an option, but rather a question that demands a response. Utilizing uncertainty, I must sow discomfort, creating (at least in me) a burning desire to scratch the itch. Many simply soothe the itch with the balm of another's certainty; but when I have tried to mask the pain with these snake-oil potions, I cannot breathe.

I have found no cure for the burning and itching. Any relief I have acquired has been sporadic and temporary. 'Reason' is the only non-drowsy analgesic I have found. Therefore I am thoughtfully passionate.

The possibility of truthful meaning and purpose requires uncertainty, discomfort, dissatisfaction, and thoughtful passion. As Nietzsche said, "We must get there, that way, where you today are least at home."

Am I Random and Expendable? Or am I Useful and Essential?

Do we create our purpose and essentiality? Or is it there by design?

If we create individual purpose completely free from design, then we are random and expendable.

If we are somehow endowed with a predetermined, superior essentiality then from an all-encompassing perspective, individual purpose is relatively meaningless.

If we are somehow endowed with an unassuming potential to create an individual purpose, then we are not superior, we are responsible.

In this last case, it should not matter if this endowment is purposeful or accidental. It should only matter that we are responsible.

And in this case, if we act responsibly, individual purpose will be nourished and strengthened, and superiority will hide in shame.

To argue over the origin of capability is wasteful and divisive.

Our focus should be on transforming the capability into minimum harm and maximum good.

Divisiveness often carries us toward maximum harm and minimum good.

Divisiveness is an abomination; more so to purposeful design than to happy accident.

Some choices I make lead to harm. Some choices I make lead to good. Many choices I make lead to a fusion of harm and good. I work hard to minimize harm and maximize good - I am not always successful.

In art, negative space is the open area around an object that allows us to identify that object. Without negative space, chaos and anarchy would prevail. This week I have been contemplating my negative space: Is it the harm I do that defines my goodness? Or is it my goodness that pushes any harm I may do to the forefront?

It is not difficult to acknowledge the existence of negative space, but it is quite difficult to focus on and definitively interpret negative space. I believe friends and family to see any extraneous harm that I may do, (that does not directly impact them), as negative space, allowing for a generously focused interpretation of my goodness. I believe critics to see my goodness as negative space, allowing for heavy-handed disapproval and judgement. I believe that based on circumstance (when I examine myself) I tend to play both the part of friend and the part of critic. The reality is that when I vacillate between friend and critic, I am one big unidentifiable blob of goodness and harm. But blobs are not pretty. We like definition; therefore we need negative space to create a positive space that is consistent with our definition of that object. So some days I define myself as good; and some days I define myself by my failings.

When I play critic and subvert my goodness into the generic oblivion of negative space, I am not just. When I play friend and interpret weaknesses as bland inconsequentialities and banish these personal imperfections to be forever lost in negative space, I am not just. But when I play fair and work at truthfulness, I often see a giant, ugly, bubbling, molten mass of blobbyness with no negative space; and I am confused.

It appears that I need to definitively choose my primary negative space and from there work very hard on focus and interpretation, as well as on an awareness of where the boundary lies between it and my positive space.

If I were to rely on my current instincts I would choose my goodness as my primary negative space, because if I chose the opposite it would be a lie. I am an imperfect human and (these days) in more circumstance than not, I am a critic acutely aware of my flaws and defects and the dangers of delusional comfort at the expense of adversity and growth.

I need to give in to the blob and work at reshaping it: first as positive space in the form of my imperfections and the harm that results from actions that I choose; and then spread outward to the negative space of my personal goodness that does have its own form and shape, though one must squint just so, from a certain angle, in a certain light, to make it out.

It is quite difficult to focus on and definitively interpret negative space. Blobs are ugly. Negative space is not nothing. Negative space has form and shape and definition. Based on my choice above, if I want to understand my goodness, I must learn to read negative space. For circumstance when my instinct (or a friend or a family member) leads me into the role of friend, I must also learn to read that negative space in order to consistently retain an understanding of my imperfections. To add further depth and complexity, I must also learn to interpret figure-ground reversal - (where 'figure' is 'object' and 'ground' is 'negative space') - as it relates to a specific object. An example would be to misinterpret complacent comfort as goodness and/or to misinterpret the pain of adversity as harmful when in reality the former leads to stagnation and the latter to growth. As we become more adept at recognizing boundaries and reading negative space, we will become less likely to be fooled by the shape-shifting blob.

We need contrast and definition.

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

As I begin to write these words it is the first wee morning hour of a new day. In the very first minutes after midnight I was wrenched from sleep by a horrible nightmare; perhaps the worst (so far) I have ever had. I will never share with anyone the content or context of this darkest of imaginings. With considerable trepidation I am feeling my way around the edges of the negative space that define my falling-down frailty as shown to me by this dream. As a crushing weight, in the blackest relief, this dream has relevance to who I am; or at least to who I currently interpret myself to be. I am afraid to sleep again for fear that my unfettered proddings and pokings may again wake this creature. I will sit up until I work my way all the way around this dangerous, definitive, razor-sharp edge and until I am able to move safely outward into a recognizable negative space of personal goodness. I know it is there. Negative space is not nothing.

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

Even in sleep, it seems I am a critic. In the dawn of this same day, with a little distance between me and the dream, I believe it is the most horrifying nightmare I have ever had... ...So far.

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

I have applied this week's thinking to an actual nightmare that brought to the forefront a sharply focused image of my malignant humanity. By blindly feeling my way around the negative space of my goodness, instead of only being horrified by my (imagined) willingness to cause suffering, I better understand that because of my goodness I am able to be horrified. I have acknowledged and recognized my goodness and (I believe) I have strengthened that goodness with truthfulness. Make no mistake, I am still horrified at last night's hint of potential; but by consciously insisting that my flaws, fears, and failings fill the positive space, I have forced a candid personal accounting based on the greater effort required to balance my obvious imperfections and the concealed truths of furtive personal goodness.

It is nice to think that I am a good person. It is a more accurate reflection of reality to understand my human potential for harm, and demand exponentially greater effort toward goodness. I am first and foremost an imperfect individual. When seeking a deeper truth, and suddenly faced with the disorientation of shifting shapes, it is too easy to pull forth and sculpt personal goodness as positive space, and then look past the unnoticeable negative space of imperfection. Greater effort toward goodness demands that it be relegated to the negative space enabling me to also remain consistently aware of my failings which in turn will encourage an evolving lessening of harm.

I will remain a critic.

As each day passes, we are smarter. Perhaps In different ways than the previous day, but nonetheless, ...smarter.

This week I finished the book "The Better Angels of our Nature" by Steven Pinker. Keeping in mind that "by definition" the average IQ score must be 100, Pinker points out (on page 626) that to comply with this definition "the companies that sell IQ tests periodically renorm the scores." On page 627 he goes on to say:

"An average teenager today, if he or she could time-travel back to 1950, would have had an IQ of 118. If the teenager went back to 1910, he or she would have had an IQ of 130, besting 98 percent of his or her contemporaries. Yes, you read that right... ...a typical person today is smarter than 98 percent of the people in the good old days of 1910. To state it in an even more jarring way, a typical person of 1910, if time-transported forward to the present, would have a mean IQ of 70, which is at the border of mental retardation.?"

Pinker goes on to explain that the good people of 1910 were not at all mentally retarded; they were just utilizing the intelligence necessary for that time and place. Gains in intelligence over the decades since have been in areas of abstract reasoning, which I interpret as necessary for the technological advances that have created the smaller world of this time and place. It appears that within a given time and circumstance, we utilize the intellectual skills necessary for progress and adaptability. And while (for me) this is encouraging, I might also argue that many individuals, (perhaps even a majority), could (and should) put forth more effort to stay ahead of (or at least with) the leading edge of innovative thought and abstract, connective reasoning.

According to the dictionary app on my phone, stupidity is "Lacking ordinary quickness and keenness of mind." Just as the bar for 'average intelligence' has been raised since 1910, so too has the bar that measures 'ordinary quickness and keenness of mind'. I believe that 'stupidity' today is a reflection of one's inflexibility and inability to expand thought into ever-widening circles of possibility; while in 1910 stupidity might have been attributed to one who was unable to cipher with pencil and paper or recite the state capitols. To some, this contrast of intelligence and stupidity may sound harsh. To me it is simply a different phrasing of previous written thought on the dangers of certainty and the mutual beneficence of uncertainty. "So what" if your cashier at the convenience store cannot count back your change. While this lack of skill is to some a sad reflection of the times, the reality is that this skill is not necessary for these times. This ordinary convenience store clerk may very well be extraordinary in ways unheard of in 1910; and yet his incredible skills (by 1910 standards) may still translate into 'ordinary' in this time and place.

One hundred years ago our circles of influence were more tightly bound in family and community creating and allowing for a higher degree of certainty based on this smaller in-group consensus. Today, not only are our in-groups larger (up to and including all of humanity) but we as individuals are often attached to a greater number and diversity of in-groups, which in turn create uncertainty and require adaptability.

I have been on vacation this past week enjoying the company - and the technological wizardry - and the social savvy - of my three-and-a-half year old granddaughter. Living several hundred miles away, I don't see her (or my daughters) nearly as often as I would like, but when I am exposed to this youngest grand-generation, I really am encouraged. The children growing up today with the technology of today, and the more subtle advances of today, (I believe) will spend less time marveling and more time asking questions that will lead to productively beneficial solutions.

I believe that this grand-generation will adapt and learn to reject certainty and actively accept uncertainty as the new norm - and that is encouraging.

This week I have been thinking about trombones; and I would like to know how many is too many?

If they all play the same exact tune, in tune, depending on the space and audience, two trombones may be too many.

If one or two trombones play the melody and all other trombones play variations and accompaniment, then (again, depending on the space and audience) any multitude of trombones may not be too many.

If you don't like trombone music, one trombone may be too many.

If you grow weary of trombone music, one trombone may be too many.

If you prefer listening to the flute, or the trumpet, or the clarinet, or the violin, or the saxophone, instead of the trombone, then you are likely to prefer that the trombone be relegated to accompaniment only, and any volume of trombones greater than the volume of flutes, or trumpets, or clarinets, or violins, or saxophones, is too many trombones.

If you play the flute, or the trumpet, or the clarinet, or the violin, or the saxophone, and you do not play the trombone, then you cannot fully understand the trombone.

If you do not play the flute, or the trumpet, or the clarinet, or the violin, or the saxophone, or the trombone, then you cannot fully understand the necessity (or in some cases, even grasp the concept) of interdependent harmony.

If you do not play the flute, or the trumpet, or the clarinet, or the violin, or the saxophone, or the trombone, then you are more likely to gravitate toward music dominated by simple, comfortable vocals.

If you play the flute, or the trumpet, or the clarinet, or the violin, or the saxophone, or the trombone, then you learn to appreciate the steadying and stimulating influence of percussion.

So just how many trombones is too many trombones?

I believe we have too many trombones...
...and too few flutes
...and a weak drummer
...and saxophones that are out of tune
...and trumpets that hijack the melody
...and violinists trying to play fiddle
...and fiddlers trying to play violin
...and clarinets slowing down the tempo
...and vocalists stealing the spotlight
...and batonless leaders who do not play the flute, or the trumpet, or the clarinet, or the violin, or the saxophone, or the trombone.