hopelesshappiness.com

Each day I work at translating my Life - my daily actions - into something meaningful and worthwhile. Many days I am confounded; most often, not as I go through my day, but at the end of the day looking back. I may have experienced pleasure, good cheer, and/or satisfaction, and I may have brought these things to others, but is lower-case happiness as described truly meaningful and worthwhile, or is it just a way to get through the day? I believe human interaction and lower-case happiness is important and necessary (for the sake of sanity if nothing else), but I also believe upper-case Happiness (one's search for Wisdom and Truth) is often given short shrift in the context of human interaction. I believe I have said this in various ways before, but this week I need to intently focus on the likelihood of meaningful, worthwhile human interaction that will bring us collectively closer to Truth and Wisdom, and not deteriorate into argument or groupthink.

I am not optimistic.

First, to attain such an open, beneficial exchange all parties must concede that opposing opinions or beliefs may be more correct or valid than one's personal opinions or beliefs. We must all be open to change and acknowledge the fluid nature of reality; and the likelihood of that happening in the near future seems slim. Which means we must start with our children and our children's children, teaching them not what to think, but how to think. What I am proposing is a monumental task. We cannot leave this entirely to our government or to the schools. Philosophy, History, Literature, and other neglected Humanities must be introduced and absorbed in the Home, and then offered and encouraged through more formal educational efforts. I could reference many opinions on this 'crisis in the humanities' and spend many words arguing and pontificating, but this week I need personal direction; (though I encourage you to research the topic and I provide the teaser below from the following article: 'The University's Crisis of Purpose' by Drew Gilpin Faust published; September 1, 2009).

"Universities are meant to be producers not just of knowledge but also of (often inconvenient) doubt. They are creative and unruly places, homes to a polyphony of voices. But at this moment in our history, universities might well ask if they have in fact done enough to raise the deep and unsettling questions necessary to any society."

I completely agree that we do not openly question or express dissent as we should. At times, it seems we have become a nation of narcissistic sheep (which should be a contradiction, but somehow is not). We are often overconfident or apathetic or conflicted. So, if this is not a challenge to be resolved in my lifetime, how do I - how can I - feel better about my daily efforts to move us closer?

For over two years a large part of my daily efforts have included this weekly blog, yet I have no regular readers at least partially because I have not discussed it with or asked for feedback from anyone, including family and friends. I have employed the 'Field of Dreams' philosophy (if I write it, they will come) with much less success than Kevin Costner. Yet I have enjoyed the anonymity (see this post) bouncing written thoughts off of myself and feeding my own doubt and uncertainties with internal dissent. It has been enlightening and helpful but I realize too that a part of the underlying reason for the continued anonymity is that I have been afraid of both rejection and acceptance and their respective impact on my confidence. I do not want to go back to having all the answers, yet I am in need of some justification. It is an interesting dilemma.

I have not missed a Saturday post in over two years and I believe that is an accomplishment in itself. If there is disagreement with my thoughts and their evolution, that is okay; in fact that is the point. I do not have all the answers and there are many weeks where I don't believe I have any answers; but I believe I am to a point where I would like more discussion and feedback.

But upon saying that, I ask myself (again), to what end? Is this my ego crying out for attention? Or is it a sincere effort to generate meaningul, worthwhile human interaction that will bring us collectively closer to Truth and Wisdom? The ego is always suspect and that has kept my voice relatively silent. Any effort to speak out has been half-hearted at best. I believe that needs to change, I am just not certain I am qualified to make the effort. On the other hand, perhaps it is exactly this doubt and uncertainty that qualifies one to speak out. Perhaps that doubt and uncertainty should be expressed and encouraged. Inconvenient as it may be, perhaps the time is right for more widespread (internal and external) dissent.

If you have come across my work, the same rules apply - you should doubt every word. Decide for yourself; and then change your mind. Ask questions of yourself and others. Encourage uncertainty and dissent. Let your reality change with every evolving thought. I am not an expert and you should not be either ...

So here I stand - this week's thoughts have led me to the realization that to encourage doubt and uncertainty, I must first overcome doubt and uncertainty. O' what a tangled web ...

I have nothing this week. Which, if you've been paying attention, means that I have something. I just need to find it.

I've been distracted this week by 200+ chigger bites obtained on a picnic in a state park. I strayed from the beaten path and (this time) I paid the price. Next time, I will likely stray from the beaten path once again. This week sleep has been scarce, as has reflective thinking.

I could point out how pain and adversity are necessary for learning and growth, but if someone would have made that point with me earlier this week, we would have fought. I could use it as an object lesson for not straying from the beaten path, but to me 'beaten' implies conformity and even in the midst of this week's epsom salts extravaganza I would argue that each of us should blaze our own trails with thoughtful skepticism and disciplined perseverance. These thoughts have been expressed before.

Scratching an itch (or 200 as the case may be) is a temporary fix; and sometimes angers the affliction. But it also expresses one's humanity. We are physical beings in a physical world and regardless of effort there are times when that physicality overrides (or overwhelms) transcendental consideration. I am on the mend, but I do appreciate the reminder.

There is no such thing as this world. In the moment that I think of this world, it has changed. And in each moment and with each thought it changes again, into something new and different and potentially wondrous. In effect, this world is made up of the intangible; that being our hopes, our dreams, and our never-ending quest for Truth, Wisdom, and Happiness. It is not possible to grasp a reality of this world; once you think you have it, it has slipped through your fingers. So can we claim no reality? Can we live with no reality? It would appear delusional to maintain that hopes, dreams, or impossible perfections are real. But I can make a case that they are fluid, changing and growing as we do. And I just made the case that reality (as it is commonly and perhaps mistakenly defined) is fluid, changing with each new moment and with each new thought. So if it is delusional to claim dreams and reality as synonymous, perhaps we can at least recognize the sympatico between the two.

I would like to backtrack for a moment and qualify... I am coming at reality from an angle of individual perspective. I know reality can be defined (by some, and probably by most) as things that exist independently of thoughts or ideas concerning them, but for this discussion I am focusing exclusively on thoughts and ideas, and though thoughts and ideas cannot exist independently of thoughts and ideas, we would like to think they can exist independently of others' thoughts and ideas. So in this vein, perhaps we can define reality as 'an illusion of personal control' - and this appears to be required. Even if we are fooling ourselves, we need this sense of something solid to grasp. I am suggesting that perhaps by acknowledging the fluid, slippery nature of reality (as we think we know it) we can turn to hopes, dreams, and perfections as more solid hand holds to help us in our learning and growth. With these hand holds it seems we do at least have some control in their formation, whereas (I believe) the reality of this world dictates that we just grab on to something and hold on tight. And though we may have entwined personal hopes, dreams, and pursuits of perfection within that something that we agree with, or that we think we agree with, it is still an illusion of control. That something may be a job, or a system of belief (politics) or faith (religion), or it could be a family, or a significant other, or a combination of these or other things of this world; or in some cases we are just barely holding onto ourselves. But in all these cases, to varying degrees, and regardless of our personal contribution, the reality of this world is that we (as individuals) have limited control. The good news is that the more we doubt, and the more we question, the greater the potential for control.

I believe in worldly attachments. I am not advocating an exodus from this world's reality. I have (in previous posts) championed the practice of exoteric goodness as a potential bridge from the reality of this world to a transcendental reality. I believe our hopes, dreams, and pursuit of perfections should be active and contributory in this world. At the same time we need to recognize that for every bit of goodness we leave behind - In This World - there is an opposing potential to negate that goodness. That is not to say we should not practice exoteric goodness; it is only to say that we should also practice restraint; and to effectively hold opposing forces at bay, we must have had some say (control) in the thoughtful formation of our individual reality; (i.e. our personal hopes, dreams, and pursued perfections). This world does not offer any one of us the solidity each one of us can offer ourselves. If one chooses (only) the ways of this world, one should hold on tight...

One's hopes, dreams, and pursuit of perfections will add substance to one's reality; momentary as it may be...

Yesterday's dreams are Today's realities...

One morning this week I awoke to a loud buzzing. Before I opened my eyes it was almost as if I could feel the syncopated vibration of thousands of tiny wings inside my head. A second before I opened my eyes I somehow knew I was not in my bed. When I opened my eyes I found myself in a forest clearing about the size of a football field, rounded wider at one end. I was on my back with a cool, mossy stone for a pillow, and hovering inches away, above me, was the most beautiful flower I have ever seen. As I focused, I reaized it was a swarm of bees; brightly colored in the traditional yellow and black, but also in varying shades and intensities of red, purple, blue, white, orange, and green. The blacks and whites were predominant toward the center and the colors extended outward, with those more pale and muted nearer to the center, and the most vibrant and intense around the edges. I was not afraid as I reached up and through the swarm creating a funnel effect extending upwards around my arm. Not a single bee landed or even so much as brushed my arm with the tip of a wing. When I removed my arm, the bees resettled and the flower reformed. I experimented with this movement, at varying speeds and with everything from a single finger to a quick leg kick. Each time it was the same. I could feel their harmony and their communal nature.

I stood and the swarm shifted to a few inches in front of me, just below my chest. Looking down at this angle I noticed that the swarm had no depth. It was a perfect single layer, seemingly with each bee equidistant from each surrounding bee. I turned my back and with the swarm behind me, took several quick steps backward. As best as I could tell, it moved with me and remained the same few inches behind me; and I am confident that it retained it's perfect shape and form. Almost without thinking I stood rigid and fell backward into the swarm, somehow knowing what would happen. As I fell (it seemed in slow motion) the swarm repositioned and gently caught me. Now holding me aloft, we stayed in this position for several moments and then gently began to move. We were slow and steady at first and just a couple of feet off the ground, but then we gained both velocity and altitude. It was exhilarating and peaceful at the same time. I'm not sure I was even breathing, but I'm also not sure I needed to. It was as if the swarm and I were breathing as one.

As they carried me throughout the day, (at times over the treetops and at times hovering on the tops of meadow-seas of flowers) they did not seem to tire and I never doubted their ability to keep me safe and comfortable. I remember thinking more than once that the day seemed to stretch infinitely before me, but looking back it seems to have went by quickly; too quickly.

Near dusk we returned to the clearing where we began. I understood an expectant sense from the swarm and (though reluctant to do so) I prepared myself to be returned to my worldly dreams. Moments later the swarm tilted, depositing me feet first in my meadow. I took a seat next to last night's pillow. The swarm hovered for a moment directly above my head and then gently lowered itself to my shoulders, parting as it lowered, to where I could feel the tickle of thousands of tiny wings on my head, face, and neck. Then, those bees directly above my shoulders landed and were (for the first time) still. They stayed that way for a few moments, lifted themselves to rejoin the swarm, then the whole rotated and more bees landed. It was a choreographic wonder. This continued until (I assume) all the bees had their rest. Or perhaps they were saying good-bye. Or perhaps they were communicating another message.

As they lifted away, again brushing me with their wings, I laid my head back on the cool, mossy stone, and as I watched them gain altitude and move away, I found sleep. When I woke again I was in my bed, and again, I was dreaming sad and wondrous dreams of this world.

I believe that the wonder and beauty of this day will influence many days and dreams to come. I believe I will hear the thrumming syncopation of thousands of tiny wings for many days and dreams to come. Some may say the flower-swarm of bees is the dream. I am not so sure ...

This week I have been thinking about the good guys and the bad guys. Are you one of the good guys? Who are the bad guys? Would they say they're the good guys? Does that make you one of the bad guys?

This week I have been thinking about drivers and pedestrians. A right-hand-turning, left-hand-looking, cell-phone-talking (or otherwise oblivious) driver-at-a-stop-sign endangers and disrespects any pedestrian walking from the driver's right. Is this lack of necessary notice because drivers think of a pedestrian as a commonplace, dreary, flat, plodding, uninteresting nuisance? As a frequent walker, I too often feel looked upon as one of the walking dead; I hope not to be, but each day in this country there are approximately 100 traffic fatalities, and of those 12 to 13 are pedestrians. Both numbers are too high, but the pedestrian percentage seems unreasonably inordinate.

This week I have been thinking about umpires and baseball. Can an umpire make a bad call? Or is it a good call because it becomes fact, thus making it as it should be? (I am reminded of the umpire that responded to an arguing player, 'if you don't think you're out, read the morning paper.') Is the umpire a good guy (for doing a difficult job and maintaining order), or is he a bad guy (for not being perfect)? Is the fact that he will make mistakes a reason to not strive for perfection? Attend a Major League Baseball game and you will see firsthand that the expectation is perfection. Umpires often say that theirs is the only profession where you have to be perfect when you start and then improve from there. If only we could all live by this maxim ...

This week I have been thinking about mass media and the general public. Does the media convey information or tell stories? What is the difference between investigative journalism and creative hype? Has a 'slant' become unavoidable? Is a 'slant' necessary? Is the general public gullible, choosing a perspective and ignoring opposing viewpoints? Are traditional news outlets outdated? With technology, is there an overabundance of available information? Or is an excess of varying perspectives good? In terms of paid professionals, is anyone reporting the facts? Are the terms 'reporter' and 'reporting' too generous? Is it better than nothing?

This week I have been thinking about winter and summer. Summer is hot. Winter is cold. Summer has heat. Winter has snow and ice. Summer has long-light. Winter has early-dark. Summer has baseball. Winter has football. Summer follows winter. Winter follows summer.

This week I have been thinking about sales and shopping. Do we ever shop anywhere, anymore where everything is at regular price? And why do I feel like I need an attorney to decipher the exclusions and exceptions always found in fine print at the bottom of the sales circular? And why do I feel like I need a mathematics professor to calculate the best combination of mix and match, not good with any other offer dollar / percentage / points / rewards / cashback / past / present / future savings? And how are all the retailers able to have nearly identical sales on the same days? With nearly identical exclusions and exceptions? And based on these daily fluctuations, how can one accurately determine the monetary value of their purchase? Is the value of that steamer I bought 10 days ago at $49.99 worth $49.99, $74.99 (last week), $44.99 (this past weekend), or $39.99 (yesterday)? And who is responsible for these sales shenanigans? Is it the retailer? Or the shopper? And finally, what is the value of an unnecessary, under-appreciated, or seldom used bargain?

This week I have been thinking about 'Camp Dog' and "Slap ya Mama". Both are Cajun seasonings. One is a little smoky. The other is a little sharp. One has subtle layers. The other has distinctive layers. One is better on grilled foods. The other is better in gumbo. I prefer one. My wife prefers the other.

This week I have been thinking about winning and losing. Is it okay to win at any cost? Is it okay to use advantages that others may not have, in order to win? Is it okay even if those advantages were attained unfairly? Is it important to win? How do you know that you've won? How do you know that you've lost? When we concern ouselves with winning and losing, does that make the matter-at-hand a game? Are the people involved players? What is the difference between friendly or respectful competition and adversarial or cutthroat combat? Does there have to be a winner and/or a loser? Is it possible for everyone to win? Is it possible for no one to win? How important is winning to you?

This week I have been thinking about rules and rule-makers. Do we have enough rules yet? When will we have enough rules? When will we have had enough of rules? Are rules made to be broken? Is anarchy workable? Why must bureaucracies make rules to close loopholes that will only impact one-tenth of one-percent of their bottom-line when the damage incurred by pissing off the other 99.9 percent will be greater? Do rule-makers (or enforcers) always follow their own rules? Are bureaucratic rule-makers trained in soullessness? Or is it an innate attribute? And what about those who find themselves in a position of making, enforcing, and/or interpreting rules? (Becoming a parent is one example.) Can justice be doled out justly? Or will someone always have an advantage?

This week I have been thinking about legs and breasts. Legs are juicy and tender. Breasts can be juicy and tender. Legs are 3 bites and 2 nibbles. Breasts are abundant and generous. Legs take one hand. Breasts take both hands. Legs are better hot. Breasts are (surprisingly) good cold. I prefer legs peppered, breaded, and fried. I prefer breasts marinated, grilled, and smoky.

This week I have been thinking about energetic bustle and quiet calm. When I visit a coffee shop, sometimes I prefer the high-energy clattering, cluttering, chattering busyness of long lines, lots of people, and straight-backed chairs. Sometimes I prefer the peaceful, thought-inducing quiescence of slow jazz, hushed conversation, and a soft, comfy chair. When I visit my inner self, sometimes I prefer the shattering, shuttering, smattering fruition of confusion, disorder, and turmoil. Sometimes I prefer the epiphanous, in-the-moment enlightenment of beauty, truth, and timelessness.

This week I have been thinking ...