hopelesshappiness.com

Am I defined by me?

Or am I defined by significant others?

Or am I defined by all others?

Or am I defined by how I want others to define me?

Or am I perhaps undefined until all others and/or significant others are able to compile a composite account of how I lived and how I died?

What if there are no significant—(depending upon one’s definition of significant)—others left to account for me? What if I am the last one? Would this mean that I should live my Life and die my Death according to how I believe others would define me? Or because there are no others to account for me, (or because those who may account for me will soon enough forget), should I define myself?

I believe many (and perhaps most) believe that one should define oneself. But is that reality? If you believe one should define oneself, do you, in each moment, define yourself with little or no regard (beyond simple civility) for those around you? Are you truly not concerned with what they may be thinking? Or how they may be judging? I believe this is unrealistic because it is difficult to separate judgement from definition; especially in the moment. I believe definition is more definite than judgement but I understand how heavy-handed or consensus judgement can strongly influence (and even become) definition.

I lean towards the belief that one is ultimately defined by oneself but not the self as consciously presented to others; not even the more authentic self as presented to significant others; and not even the self as presented in the quietest of moments alone. I think I believe that one is defined by the self that defines reality outside of oneself. Last week I described reality as a massive writhing contortion beneath a veil of everything-will-be-okay. I am saying that I am not how I am seen, I am how I see. To define myself I cannot see myself (through my eyes or through the eyes of others), I must instead objectively see how I see. What am I looking at? And why? Where is my focus? When is my focus?

For me, this means:
I am skepticism.
I am sadness.
I am serious thought.
I am cynicism.
I am active hope.
I am sincerity.
I am anger.
I am uncertainty.

I would rather be this than quiescence. And pretense. And overriding fear. I think those are the broad strokes.

I do realize though that in a given moment I may be quiescence and/or pretense and/or fear; but beneath these momentary reactions I still see reality as a massive writhing contortion.

I also realize that many (and perhaps most) see quiescence and pretense and fear as hope and happiness and certainty. This is not realistic. Lift the veil and you will see quiescence and pretense and fear grotesquely undulating very near the surface – This is the Reality. Yet if we dare look, many (and perhaps most) of us quickly cover it up.

And perhaps that is okay because perhaps, given our animal nature, it is unavoidable. But if this is the case, why do we pretend to be forward-thinking caretakers? I believe we pretend because we aspire. I believe aspiration is more definite and more actively hopeful than pretense. I believe one day, to pretend will not be okay. I believe more and more (and perhaps soon to be most) of us are working toward longer-term survival of the species. And I believe frequently lifting the veil will ultimately push aspiration from thought to action.

I am active awareness.
I am active aspiration.
I am outrage.
I am not giving up.

Today 1 in 3 adult black males in the United States of America are convicted felons. For some this gap (33% of adult black males vs. 13% of all adult males) just goes to show, all blacks are criminals. For others this shocking statistic illustrates the injustice running rampant through our system. I am aligned with the rampant injustice (fact-based) believers. From the research and statistics, I also believe that AT LEAST 1 in 3 of all adult males could be convicted felons, which, (if I follow the reasoning of the unthinking majority), I guess just goes to show that all adult males are criminals. But, (hanging with the fact-based minority), I believe this shows that the laws we choose to emphasize and enforce, (many times at the street level), are not based on sound principles of farsighted consensus justice, but instead are structured and manipulated to maintain an old guard status quo.

I believe this entrenched injustice applies to far more than blacks caught up in the criminal justice system. It also applies to single Moms, and the disabled, and the skeptics, and the homeless, and the immigrants, and the bona-fide credentialed experts, and the poverty-stricken, and the serious thinkers, and the mentally ill, and the growing majority ranks of paycheck-to-paycheck working poor, and anyone else who doesn’t fit neatly into the system’s expectation of subservient acquiescence.

Everyone in their place.

We preach hope. We practice suppression.

It is like telling a dog who is beaten daily by his master that he has a choice. It is like telling a squirrel to wait for traffic. It is like telling a man in the throes of a massive heart attack, not to die. It is like telling a pinball caught rapid-fire between two bumpers to begin planning its next move. Circumstance begets circumstance begets circumstance-begets-circumstance-begets-circumstance-begets-circumstance-begets-How-the-hell-did-I-get-here? Roadkill.

We play at anecdotal sympathy and we amuse ourselves with selective, superficial empathy. We flirt with serious consideration and we trifle with the future. We pretend to know Beauty, Truth and Wisdom and we dabble in Faith. We tinker with Life.

It is easy to ignore a preponderance of evidence when the bar is set at beyond a reasonable doubt; even easier when we use the old guard definition of reasonable.

To divide and to separate and to categorize is no longer reasonable. To create circumstance that seduces and deceives and entangles, and then to blame those caught in the trap, is no longer reasonable. To play and to amuse ourselves and to flirt and to trifle and to pretend and to dabble and to tinker is no longer reasonable. To continue to ignore the preponderance of evidence is no longer reasonable.

Yes, it is extremely disheartening to see the massive writhing contortion of reality beneath the veil. Perhaps it would be less monstrous if we could all see it; if we could all share it. But it appears that we prefer to believe everything will be okay. True to our animal nature, we prefer to live in the moment for the moment. And on this trajectory, sooner than later, that moment will be gone.

Problem solved.

Every day we pretend; living in a land of make-believe, we play dress-up and live the day, the moment, happily-ever-after. I suppose this is more functional than the alternative: to be truthful, living in a land of sensibility where we could respond reasonably to reality and live the day, the moment, for the future. This latter option feels more right; but it would be dysfunctional because we would ALL have to completely not care how we are perceived by others. As a species we have become incapable of this level of selfless regard.

I am cold. I am always cold. I am chilled by the callous disdain we pretend to not have. I am astounded by the unrefined ignorance exhibited daily by pretentious pinheads. I am constantly stopped in my tracks by the frozen sludge of bureaucracy.

Raw, biting, bitter, icy, (and largely successful) attempts to grab and hold on to power, (made by those who want us to pretend that the status quo is best), keeps those who work to advance truthful sensibility from moving forward.

Until a large majority of us stop pretending, we will be unable to respond reasonably to reality. And until we are able to respond reasonably to reality, we will remain an endangered species. And if we are unable to respond reasonably to reality soon, it may be too late; if it is not already.

We find warmth in make-believe and dress-up and happily-ever-after. When we strip away these trappings, we find ourselves cold. So, encouraged by pinheads, we snuggle back up, deep inside our fuzzy cloaks of invisibility and we allow the status to quo.

Better to be cold.

The smell of wet
Rotting leaves and mud

Death, followed by Life
Until it is not

Each cycle is the same
Until it is not

Milky and sulphurous, Life flows
Until it does not

Death is not waiting
Death is running alongside
A step ahead
Watching for an opportunity
To cut me off

The end will be sudden
The end will be painful
The end will be a comfort
The end will be momentous
Until it is not

I am wary
Watching death, peripherally

If I speed up
To a step ahead
I may be tripped up
From behind

If I change lanes
To confront directly
I may be waylaid
Death may simply stop
And wait

No, I must continue
In my lane
Warily
Peripherally
With confidence

I see others
Running alongside
Their personal death

Some, a step behind
Some, a step ahead

I pass some, stopped
Confronting
Or pleading

I see some, fearful
Not looking back
Trying to outrun

The inevitable

I see death
Over and over and over again
Biding his time
Sadly smiling to herself
Knowing

The end is sudden
The end is painful
The end is a comfort
The end is momentous
Until it is not

Is it true that the eyes are the window to the soul? To consider this, I suppose one would first have to define (or at least characterize) soul. Because this is my written thought and because I am likely the only one that will read it, I think we will use my definition for soul.

Soul: The aspect of an individual as seen and understood by the individual to be the individual; apart from the body but impacted by the body, apart from the emotions but influenced by the emotions, and apart from the intellect but persuaded by the intellect.

Considered in this regard the soul is either 1) a bladder-like receptacle that collects the unexplainable detritus of life which is then expelled into the void upon the death of the individual, or 2) a bladder-like receptacle initially imbued with meaning and purpose that collects wisdom which is then transformed into Truth upon the death of the individual.

Reconsidering, …perhaps the Truth will show that 1) and 2) are exactly the same. Perhaps as I am living in this existence it is merely a matter of perspective. Perhaps not.

So from my perspective the soul is a place where the individual collects and questions uncertainties, and formulates beliefs that ultimately guide actions that ultimately define the individual. And because we put so much emphasis on individuality and power and importance, this soul definition outmaneuvers all others, and by doing so may perpetuate cycles of selfishness. My body may tell me one thing, my heart may tell me another thing, and my brain yet another; but when it comes to understanding “me” (especially when the body, brain and/or heart disagree) I first gather this information together to determine which bits when coalesced most conform to my soul definition. The soul encourages consistency and provides a measure of comfort and safety. I tend to put more trust in my soul. So in the sense that I see what and how my soul sees, (at least metaphorically) the eyes are indeed a window to the soul.

Research also shows that physically the eyes in various ways do provide clues to one's emotional state. I believe the emotional state revealed by the eyes reflects direction after one's soul has processed and coalesced. So in this literal sense the eyes again are a window to the soul.

So what happens when the eyes are faulty, deficient or malfunctioning? The literal eyes I believe in most cases will work to continue to reflect one's soul direction though defective eyes may throw up some barriers. For example eyeglasses become a window to the window to the soul. But what about metaphorically? What if the soul sees with lazy eye or cloudy eyes or double vision? The literal eyes and the literal interpretation of this faulty definition will feel consistent and sincere to the individual because it emanates from the individual soul; that bladder-like collector of things. It is sounding more and more like I believe the soul to be a scheming, manipulative untrustworthy soul. But if this is what I see, and if what I see is guided by what the soul sees, then how can I trust this? And if the eyes are a window to the soul, but the eyes are being hoodwinked by the soul, how can I trust the eyes of another? I am back to the constancy of uncertainty and questioning; most significantly, questioning my self.

I have had medical procedures that have exposed my brain and my heart. Next week I am seeing an ophthalmologist. Will my soul also see the ophthalmologist? Will the ophthalmologist see my soul? Or will we discover together that I do not have a soul? It is a question that weighs heavy on my…

…soul